Guess Things Happen That Way
by Elanthra
Summary: A time for reflection and revelation for Sheppard. Combined Tag for Vegas and Enemy at the Gate. Mainly JS. Teyla too.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes:

Vegas is my favourite SGA episode of all time and I couldn't let it pass by without writing something by way of a tribute. And that ending... well, it was just crying out for an explanation. So here's mine... and it's different...

'Guess Things Happen That Way' is from another Johnny Cash song. The title's apt – the words and tone less so! But 'Solitary Man' was already taken.

Rated 'T' for swearing.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own SGA. And I am humbly grateful always, to be permitted to write SGA stories without any thought of remuneration.

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Guess Things Happen That Way - Part One

Heavy beats steady through the air. Thumping at the ground that wakes him. Dust grits, stings his face. Whipped up by down-draughts as the chopper circles low and fast. Stench. Heat of burning, flaming debris. Fires that rise and flutter hard.

He doesn't open his eyes. He knows the Sikorsky Pave Hawk. Even in the haze that passing for thought he knows its height, speed, direction.

The desert again.

Last time hands pulled him free. Pulled others free too and then draped their bodies in tarpaulin. Life can go full circle… except he's alone now… was then… but didn't know it…

Hands nudge, encourage him he is human again and he has to breathe again and know the hurt and the agony again…

He holds a winning hand but can never win when the other player holds all the chips…

Life's sucks…

And the Wraith beckons with black fingers and drools his snarl and says it is his destiny to die in the desert.

Leave me. Leave me here to die. You don't get second chances. Ever. And who wants the pain all over…

Last time… a lifetime… her hand slips from his… she smiles… waves… and he dies every day trying to forget…

-oAo-

"Crap!"

And notes were whipped away out of sight, the table returned from its odd thirty degree angle, beans back on their plates, cutlery back in a military left and right and no one knew the race had ever begun…

Except Woolsey did.

It had been that obvious. Even with Rodney still angelically stuffing his face right in the centre of the action as if nothing had happened… though as far as Rodney was concerned, it never had… money was never going to leave his palms that easily… he'd much rather give the lecture on why the baked bean was ergonomically retarded and therefore could not, theoretically, literally, be considered to _roll_ even if slapped vigorously on the backside by the flat of an eating knife…

Woolsey coughed uncomfortably and Sheppard stared down at his boots, shoving guilty hands deep into his pockets, having had scant time to get himself seated again and make some attempt to look like he had actually come to the dining hall, to… well, _dine_.

And where the hell was their lookout, a certain Ronon Dex? Payback time, huh, for the popcorn fiasco?… Nothing like a Satedan scorned… and Sheppard imagined him grinning in some darkened corridor… it'd have to be darkened because he'd need lay low from Sheppard for a while yet after this… days, weeks, months…

"Well," and Woolsey coughed again, "it's good to see you all getting in some well-earned rest," and only just succeeded in keeping the sarcasm out of his voice. Lieut. Muldoon nodded, and he and his co-conspirators of six marines stood and dutifully filed off to dispose of their trays.

"Colonel?"

Sheppard breathed out now. Yeah, he could still do nonchalant. Nothing had happened here. He could still do denial.

"Woolsey."

"We've just received a communiqué from SGC. A request. Though you're free to decline." Hell, the man could have _radioed_ that, couldn't he?

"A communiqué? Request? Decline?" Sheppard was still thinking about his lost winnings.

"Communique! Request! Decline! Yes, congratulations, you did get that right, Sheppard! Blow on the head didn't affect your hearing then," said an irritable Rodney, demolishing his blue dessert savagely with a spoon, now he had a level surface to eat off. Sheppard scowled down at him. Perhaps the scientist should have had double portions…

With a nod of his head, Woolsey invited Sheppard to make for the exit. An expression that was grim and deadly serious. This needed to be a private conversation then. And Sheppard dutifully followed. Limping painfully.

Heck, they were in trouble for a little mess hall fun? But this was twice in one week. The first time it'd been Slinky racing down the north west tower stairwell, (who brought Slinkies to Atlantis in their personal stuff?) and Sheppard, in the excitement, dodged round Lieut. Muldoon, tripped, knocked himself out cold, waking up in the infirmary with concussion, bruises, a gashed cheek and a badly sprained ankle. Officially, they said he'd been out running but Woolsey had doubted that… a lot… you could just tell from his face he didn't buy it.

So, it was Sam who'd been sent to try and track down Larrin and her people, to negotiate a deal for a new Control Chair for the defence of Earth, with the plan that Atlantis could then be released back to Pegasus… and it was Lorne who'd ferried Teyla back to the Athosians to see TJ, and to further test whether Radek's new wormhole travel could be applied to Jumpers. And it was Sheppard, left behind, to twiddle his thumbs with the Marines.

Once in the corridor, he tried pleading their case. "Look, the men… they're bored…" Stuck on Atlantis, with no leave. No missions.

"I know," said Woolsey curtly, stopping, facing him, but not meeting his eye, shaking his head in semi-disbelief, "after those events of last week…" when a signal beacon went up from the surface of Earth acting like one enormous Eat for Free neon sign to every Wraith in the Pegasus Galaxy and suddenly, the fight for survival for Earth became Atlantis' fight too. "We were so caught up in those events… quite rightly so… now everything seems something of... an anticlimax." So Woolsey wasn't going to read him the riot act. There was something else troubling him. Then it had to be this… request…

And he handed Sheppard the file he'd been carrying.

Suddenly that knot in his stomach. That awful sense of foreboding… like the time Sam took him to one side and broke the news that his father had passed away… Sheppard accepted the file, not asking why he had to read it. Thinking it though. Showing it. He flicked it open and began scanning the first pages. Boring stuff at first. Names of those who'd compiled the file. Signatures. Qualifications. All entered on differing days. First, the Vegas Metropolitan Police Department. Nellis Air Force Base, Nevada. Then, SGC. IOA. It'd gotten serious then…

"Man power couldn't be spared," explained Woolsey. "A 'B' team was sent to the location. We were still reeling from the loss of Area 51. Counting our losses. Repairs… So there was a delay in putting two and two together… a delay in passing the file over to us…"

A scientific summary followed. And Sheppard paused on the page. "Rodney was right… the beacon came through a time rift?... You told him yet?"

"No. He'll find his own copy waiting for him in his lab."

"Some other bast… sorry… someone else dumped their problem on us?"

"It was probably an accident… totally unintentional… read on… no one was concerned with the 'why' or 'how' at the time… we just had to deal with the consequences… and still do, so this was totally overlooked…" Woolsey was eagerly waiting for Sheppard to get to the punch line, watching him flip over another page.

"Right," and Sheppard nodded solemnly as he reached the relevant part, the part that obviously concerned him, and him alone.

'One white male: airlifted to MOCFH, Nellis, AFB, Nevada. A date. Of a week ago. Condition: critical. Two bullet wounds to upper body. Upper left lung. Kidney through to abdomen. (See enclosed surgeon's notes.)

Further description: About 40. Six foot. 160 Pounds. Medium to slim build. Dark brown hair. Brown eyes.

Clothing: civilian.

Name: John Patrick Sheppard. Verification required. Carries unidentifiable papers. Possibly a driver's licence (?) Footnote: contrary to first premise, evidence of old scar tissue to lower body, dental records, fingerprints, biometric iris recognition, indicate that this is not Lt. Col. John P. Sheppard, currently attached to Cheyenne Mountain.'

A bad photo, paper-clipped to the corner of the page. It could have been a mug shot. Or taken at a morgue. The eyes closed… John Sheppard all the same. Himself...

"He…" and Sheppard swallowed and coughed. "He came through the rift?" His voice hoarse and low.

"Yes, apparently. At the same time as the transmitted beacon."

"A civilian?"

"Or undercover? Off duty?"

"Some day off…"

He read on...

'Wreckage: One silver bullet trailer. Contents: Remnants of transmitter device (?) Difficult to ascertain due to damage. Various notes. Diagrams… Requires further scientific investigation. Suggest contacting Dr. M. R. McKay at Cheyenne Mountain.

One pick-up truck – unidentifiable make.

One red two door car – similarity to Chrysler Camaro. Contents: one hold-all on passenger seat, containing unidentifiable notes, possibly American dollar equivalent. Cell phone on dash. Card of Dr. M. R. McKay in foot well. Car fitted with satellite locator inside engine compartment.'

"Satellite locator? Someone was tracking him?"

'Also on site: Power cable leading to power lines. Suggested possible source of energy.

Shells of A10 Thunderbolts (?)'

"Military got off some shots then. Tried blowing up this device?"

"Looks that way."

"And that caused the rift somehow?"

"We'll get Dr. McKay to look into that."

"No sign of a Wraith? It wasn't this guy sending up the signal?" Just because this was another Sheppard didn't mean he was on the side of the good guys.

"If you look further down. Forensic say there is evidence that a Wraith _was _on site." Woolsey pulled a face. Even the thought of the remains of a Wraith could turn anyone's stomach. "Though how a Wraith came to be there in the first place is a question that needs answering."

'Also on site: Two high velocity rifles. Unidentifiable make. Trace Wraith DNA and absence of J. Sheppard DNA suggests these were fired exclusively by the Wraith. Twenty dozen rounds spent shells. Same calibre as those extracted from John Sheppard. Same calibre as those fired into the car.

Silver pistol. Unidentifiable make. J. Sheppard DNA and fingerprints. Two empty cartridge clips. Forensic evidence suggests all ammo fired at site.'

This Sheppard armed with only a handgun, went up against a Wraith with _two _rifles? And people said _he_ had a death wish…

Several photos showing markers on the ground. One indicating the spot where this other Sheppard was found. Blood in the dirt. Twenty feet from the car. The car riddled with bullets. Surrounded by scattered metal and burnt debris of trailer.

"Christ! How did he get out of there?" whispered Sheppard low.

He turned the file round 180 degrees. The man had obviously been heading for the road. And there was just something about this whole scenario that reminded him of the time he went up against the Superwraith… The desert… out of ammo… Jumper… trailer… pile of rocks… the car… same distances…

The guy just hadn't been lucky… and had been working alone…

"So…" Sheppard summed up, "he tried stopping the Wraith before the planes turned up." A regular hero… "Could never have done more than delayed the Wraith… Might have saved the asses of their world and they probably don't even know it."

"Hmm…Possibly true. Anyway, you've been asked to attend the Mike O'Callaghan Federal Hospital and pay him a visit. Like I said, you can decline. No one would think badly of you… But… you're available..." and Woolsey couldn't hide that look of disapproval glancing down at Sheppard's foot. "And we're not going anywhere anytime soon. It was just felt you should have first offer. It's not your normal call of duty… more a humanitarian mission… though the… man does need to be interrogated-" Sheppard eyed him archly back over the top of file. "Sorry, I mean de-briefed… he's said very little as yet on account of his injuries. Even now, after a week, it's doubtful whether he'll survive. Though as you can see, from the blood tests, it's important to us that he does make it-"

"-He's a human being," defended Sheppard. So they were asking him to be a vulture. Get what they could out of the man before he died. And if he lived, if he had potential, though, hey, he had guts, there was no question of that, encourage him to join the Programme. A natural ATA gene holder was always a bonus. But this other thing…

"Yes. Yes. I know that." Woolsey was failing miserably at this. "Look, we're not ogres here," trying to regain ground. "The medical staff say it's a good idea… for him to have… a friendly ear to talk to… as it were…"

And yes, Sheppard was probably the nearest thing that he had to that.

"I'll go." There was never any question that he wouldn't. And he returned the closed file back to Woolsey.

"There's a Gate activation scheduled for you in an hour to take you to SGC. Petersen will take you on to Nellis Air Field Base." And Sheppard nodded and turned to leave.

"Oh, and… congratulations by the way," added Woolsey.

"Huh?"

"Another citation for bravery?" reminded Woolsey.

"Yeah… thanks." He'd forgotten and… hell, he was starting to lose count…

"And… though I'm probably not at liberty to divulge this at the present… but there's talk on the grapevine of promotion… appreciation for your input last week."

"Input?" So that was admin speak for risking your damn neck nowadays.

"Yes, er, that was quite… courageous-"

"-We all were."

-oAo-

"Weird!"

He'd been called a great many things, though, despite what Rodney claimed to the contrary about his pulling skills, by too few women… but never weird. Ok. Maybe… Larrin might have called him that once… twice…

He pulled a face.

"Sorry…" and she cast him another look up and down, as if to make sure she'd got the degree of weirdness just about right in her head, "but you have to admit… it's weird!"

"Yeah… weird…"

"Hmm," she said, realising she'd just blown it, and swung round on her swivel stool, back to her bench, "I'll be with you directly… just finish here," and concentrated on the work before her.

"Fine. Take your time." Seemed like the polite thing to say. To say he didn't mind waiting. Though he'd much rather have left and come back later…

Hospitals gave him the creeps.

A shrink might say there was a childhood link in there, somewhere, that associated hospitals with death, dying, never with healing, getting well. And as much as Sheppard hated the psychology profession, he would have been the last person to disagree with that analysis. Added to that, he'd just about had his fill of horrors in Atlantis' infirmary…

He dug his hands in his pockets and did a small circle of the cupboard-sized laboratory, trying to conceal his limp (he didn't want to go into that right now… she might think he was… weird), pretending to be mildly interested in medical supplies neatly stacked and catalogued on metal shelves, throwing half-glances back in the Doctor's direction. There really was nothing else to look at…

He watched as the medic worked with a test-tube… a sample bottle… whatever… of god knows what… though Sheppard could made a pretty accurate guess… held between forefinger and thumb… swilling its yellowish contents around… holding it up against a bright fluorescent ceiling light of the small lab… examining it closely at eye level… so not bothered that he was observing her… in a… well… bothered sort of way. Insides… squirming with embarrassment so he turned away. Why had every medical doctor he'd ever met always been so pragmatic about these things?

"You know, we had been warned…" she said, at last, "they made us all sign yet another non-disclosure form you see, but still… I hadn't expected, you know... such a close resemblance?"

She placed the test tube with others in a rack on her bench before her, threw her latex gloves into the bin and neatly jumped down from her stool.

"I guess you're used to it?" She asked a little too brightly. Now glove free, she offered her hand. "Dr. Bianca, by the way."

"No. Not really," he said, shaking hands not even close to her level of enthusiasm, remembering the Daedalus, and the sight of himself and three Team members lying dead together in some forgotten corner…

"I'll show you the way now if you like… it's not far," and opened the door for him, following him through.

They walked side by side down a deserted corridor, a cleaner busy shining an already shimmering mirrored floor to a military spick and span. The smells of polish, disinfectant strong in the air.

"He should have been taken to Cheyenne Mountain… all that "Top Secret" stuff, huh?" and she made the inverted commas sign with raised fingers. "But we were told things were a bit hectic there last week and I don't think he could have made the distance. Though we were a bit snowed under ourselves… had to take in fifteen survivors from Area 51. Plus treat twenty one walking wounded."

The Doctor came to a standstill suddenly, stopping Sheppard by taking his arm, and then snatched it away, quickly realizing that she was perhaps being over-familiar. Her expression different. Serious. "Look, Col. Sheppard, this might be a mistake… though you seem nice enough… I don't agree with this. I know you guys have your job to do… but he's no where near ready. This went over my head. He's not out of the woods yet. It could still go either way. I don't know how much they told you in our message… he didn't receive the immediate emergency medical aid he should have… it was dark before a sweep of the area was made and a full twenty minutes before any one realised there was a man down… no one was looking or expecting… lost a lot of blood… two bullets… a collapsed lung and way too much surgery on his kidney and abdomen… and then there's low grade radiation poisoning… on top of that there's now a chest infection we can't get on top of…"

She began to walk again, and he followed after, skirting round the cleaner before he reached her side again.

"Well… I haven't exactly come here to_ kill_ the guy…"

"I just thought I'd make some ground rules clear…" and she stopped, turning to face him again. "He's sedated to help with sleep so I'll hold off with the next dose so you can talk, unless he really needs it or something for the pain. It won't hurt for him to try and clear those lungs anyhow. But… when I say leave… you damn well leave! Unless you can promise me you'll do that, I'm not letting you near…" and she walked off once more.

Hell, she was difficult to carry on a conversation with. He practically jogged to catch up. And then his ankle clicked painfully and he had to hobble anyway.

"This was always intended to be low key… that's why _I'm_ here and not the guys in suits," he winced out.

She carried on, setting a fast pace, oblivious to his limp. "He needs a visitor though, I'm not denying that. He's tough… though there's signs he hasn't exactly taken good care of himself recently… you know, nutrition, exercise, so he's not military, I'm certain of that… so what he would have been like if he had…" and she paused, waiting for the lagging Sheppard to catch up. Looking him up and down. Finding her answer. And Sheppard was damn uncomfortable being undressed like that...

She carried on down the corridor. "But he's not… _fighting_… not exactly… just… sort of… quietly persistent, I guess… There's no will, no spark. At first, he was with us all the way. It's instinct I guess. Throw a man in a deep lake, he'll learn to swim pretty damn quick or drown. I'm astonished he actually made it through the first couple of days… But now… he's nearly given in… He's not been told anything. It was generally felt that would be too upsetting in his present condition. He became conscious only two days ago and has slept most of the time since. I'm not sure how cognitive he's been, but I sense… he knows, you see… just how... alone he is…" She came to a halt again, indicating that this was their stop. A door with a frosted panel marked C2. A window adjacent. Blinds closed.

Sheppard nodded gravely. "Hey, we're on the same page." Though he hardly felt qualified for the task ahead. This sort of thing had always been Teyla's domain.

"A friend. And you're not just after information?" Her hand was on the door handle but no way was she going to open it until she received that assurance she needed.

"It's what I'm here for," he repeated.

But he was realistic to know that the guy through that door was going to be a total stranger after all.

"Feel free to sit in here and wait. Or there's a staff rest room two doors down. With coffee, snacks when you need anything. You'll find me or the duty nurse next door along. We have a monitor in there so we're keeping a twenty four observation, but I'd appreciate if you didn't proceed until I'm present. We wouldn't want him taking one look at you and dying of a heart attack."

He was allowed in.

To a dimly lit room.

And it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust after the brightness of the corridor outside.

The blinds at the outer window were also closed shut. One desk lamp affair, sitting on a bedside locker, the only light, was tilted, angled at the ceiling, a searchlight beam pointing upwards, leaving the area around the bed coloured a dull yellow and its patient, an indefinable huddle, in a dark sleeping shadow.

A fan close to the light worked, whirred hard, sending cool air over the bed, the draught of which reached Sheppard where he stood, slightly ruffling his hair. The thermostat clicking made one of the few slight noises in the room. Tubes, wires draped away from the bed, coiling their way to the medical equipment at the side, humming and beeping almost soundlessly with all the normal efficiency of life saving, life monitoring equipment. The only intrusive sound seemed to be the patient's own laboured breathing.

Dr Bianca flicked on a switch nearby throwing a blue white glow into her area, taking the opportunity to check data from the equipment now she was here.

She clicked her tongue and shook her head.

And then… her attention was diverted suddenly, her glance switching from Sheppard, back to her patient, back to Sheppard. Who was staring hard at the man's face.

Ok. He shouldn't be. It's not as if he hadn't been warned. He turned away.

"Told you," she whispered, "weird…"

"He's…" And he passed a hand over his face, words failing.

The sickly grey pallor. Sunken closed eyes. Perspiration that made his black hair cling to his temples. Head lolled to one side, heavy in the pillows. A stillness. Especially the hands, limbs. A stillness. Even with the struggle for breath. That rattled lungs. That wheezed through the cannula tubing.

He'd said to Woolsey… a human being… and it was the clichéd thing to say at the time… but here was more than a printed name, a photo on a file report… here was a guy caught up in yet another… well, _weird_ Pegasus incident… flesh and blood… and not a copy… not a mirror image… the whole three-D thing… same name, same looks but a human being in his own right… with his own story as to how he ended up here… frail, vulnerable… and…

The guy was dying.

There but for the grace of God, Rodney had said.

His gaze returned back to the bed. Took in more detail. Two days beard. Bandages swathed around his whole upper body. Even in the dim light, two white marks clearly visible where a watch and a wrist band had been.

Damn, the guy had even worn a wrist band… and he glanced numbly down at his own right hand.

They looked so alike… so alike but it was impossible they could ever be the same.

"He's a stranger…" And found he'd murmured the words out loud.

"Then… get to know him."

He nodded. Slowly.

Perhaps this was all such a bad idea, after all. He wasn't trained for this and certainly felt out of his depth. Perhaps he should have waited for Teyla's return. Hell, what sort of tough guy was he when he needed Teyla to hold his hand over this?

In his head again. Teyla. Ronon. McKay. Himself. Four dead bodies on the Daedalus. And there was the replicator carbon copies. He could blank them out. Shut them out. No consequences. Didn't have to get involved. But here, he was already committed… friend… to someone he knew absolute zero about… the assumption on the part of Woolsey… SGC… himself?... that because they looked alike… they'd be a natural affinity… or… had he really come simply out of curiosity, after all?... Too much thinking… just an assignment… just a chat… re-assure the guy that this wasn't the finish… everything ahead was just going to be…fine… different but fine… close the file… walk away… end of story… but he wasn't comfortable with the rollercoaster feel of all this… he felt sorry for the guy… who wouldn't?... but how much of that was because they looked alike? How much of that was because this could have been him, a mere blink away?

"I need somewhere to put this?"

From his jacket pocket, he pulled out, a small black recording gizmo they'd given him, holding it up for the Doctor to see.

It would be better, if the man didn't know everything was going down on tape, he'd been told. But the choice was his, whether he told him or not. And even now, he wasn't certain how he was going to play this. He knew he felt like a traitor. This felt underhand. And in view of what she'd said earlier, he knew Dr Bianca would feel the same way.

"I don't like it… but," he shrugged his excuse. "It's procedure, so… I have to." Perhaps the guy wouldn't, couldn't say much. The recording would simply get logged and lost in some computer data somewhere. Forever… Or… he could accidentally forget to press play…

She simply took the device from his hand and without a word, placed it on a small ledge next to a monitor. Judging and adjusting the lens scope to take in the patient. Concealing it.

"You've done this before?" he asked quietly surprised.

Her turn to shrug, checking the patient, keeping her voice low, so as not to wake him. "Yeah. Though I've not seen a device quite like this one before. Very high tech… But… like you said, normal procedure. We get them all in here… accidents, crashes, question marks over pilot, driver error, friendly fire incidents, released POWs, unlawful killings… you military guys never know when to stop…"

"There won't be background noise? Interference?" From the monitors. He didn't know. Rodney always saw to the gadgets.

"If there is, I'm sure they can take it out later." She handed him back the small remote, still whispering. "I don't know how much play you get with this thing. So my advice is to switch off when he's asleep. You know, it could be a long haul, grabbing your chances when you can. I'm expecting him to wake up shortly, though don't expect anything too coherent."

"Thanks." Though his gratitude was a little on the hazy side – she'd given him just one too many lectures.

"I'll leave you then…" And she switched off her light.

"Yeah…"

She was gone and he looked around for some place to sit. The choice between a stool next to the bed or a white plastic chair in a dark corner.

And sat himself down awkwardly in the semi darkness, leaning forward, elbows resting on thighs, fiddling with, turning over, again and again, the remote in his hands. Already uncomfortable, thirty seconds in.

Shuffling a little after a couple of minutes. Leaning back. Stretching his legs out to full length. Scarcely daring to make a noise. Giving up. Standing at the foot of the bed. Pushing hands into pockets. Staring back down at the other guy again. A twinge in his ankle. So he sat again. And this waiting was supposed to be the easy part…

-oAo-


	2. Chapter 2

Guess Things Happen That Way - Part Two

Voices that whisper. That wake him. Or… aware of movement by his bed. A dream in fever. Himself. Dark. Or black? Like Cash. Lit blue by the neon lights of Vegas.

'I knew another version of you,' says McKay. 'A hero.' Lit blue by a glowing Ancient Chair.

The twilight blue sky of a closing desert night. Stars that were never his.

Someone else is there.

Too tired. Too damned tired. And eyes that won't open.

Lungs that need to cough. But too damned tired. And lets the gravel wheeze continue.

And then a half-cough because it has to come. But God, it hurts…

Sleep again. And the pain goes... Surely soon, he could wake and it'd be gone. Pain nagging at his chest, back. Stabbing if he moved. Sometimes he wonders if they ever remembered to take the damn bullets out. He's screwed up. That Wraith really screwed him up. And there was him… thinking how lucky he'd been that the planes turned up when they did, so he didn't get fed on…

Once… a long time ago… he'd woken up… pain… the first day of the rest of his life… alone…

And so hot. He tries to make the effort to throw off the sheet. Lead for hands that don't respond. Fingers that tell him the sheets are low at his waist already.

Though there is a fan that whirrs. Hypnotic. If you listen… A click of the thermostat and he wakes again.

Coughing that won't stop. Forcing him to raise himself from his pillows. Sucking on the oxygen tube hard. Panicking. Breathing hard… breathing hard… breathing just has to be easier than this… and he flops back exhausted onto pillows.

Water would be good. A thirst that sticks his tongue to the top of his mouth. Perhaps…

Someone is there. Standing from the chair opposite. In shadow. He tries focusing his eyes but everything's a damn blur. Perhaps it's that doctor. Perhaps he'll get more stuff to help him sleep… take him away from the pain in his chest… hey, just take him away… because, thankfully, he never remembers his dreams…

He never means to moan.

It makes the man hesitate. Holding back in the shadow. Out of the ring of light. Sheppard squints open his eyes wider. Wet with perspiration and tears.

The man is dark in dark shadow.

He struggles to concentrate. To make guesses. Hendricks, his boss, come to say sorry, apologise for all the shit jobs they'd given him that no one else would touch… but he's left all that behind. McKay or FBI? Come to ask questions. No. They'd be in your face. A badge that says: 'I'm power, I'm authority.'… His brother? His brother… wouldn't come near… not after the funeral. No… this guy… watching from the shadows… like… he's wishing he's not here… Well, he is. And he can, at least, get him some water.

He could press his call button. But it's got lost somewhere in the mound of pillows.

He gasps out the words.

"Hey… some… help…"

And the guy instantly disappears out through the door, re-appearing moments later, with the doctor and a nurse.

The doctor checks equipment. Says he way too hot. He knows that. The guy doesn't leave. He asks if it's ok to stay. They're too busy to reply. The nurse gets him water. Helps him drink. The lamp's been re-positioned. It throws more light on the bed. But makes more shadow in the room. The man stands in the shadow… waiting…

The nurse holds him so he can cough some more, get his lungs cleared. And he vomits. He thinks he has no strength left. Somehow his body finds the damn strength for this.

The nurse changes the sheets. She's good at this. He hardly needs move. He's so exhausted he _can't_ move. She eases him first one way, and then the other. She helps him with drink again.

The man speaks to the doctor. All he hears is the one word, 'hopeless'. Yeah, this is all hopeless. The doctor says something back that makes the guy decide to stay. Somehow… somehow… yeah, he'd like the guy to stay…

The doctor removes his bandages across his chest. And lower down. Examines his wounds. She frowns. He hardly dares to look down. He's shivering now. Shivering, yet soaked with perspiration. When he does look down, his chest wound is bleeding again. The doctor's satisfied it's not deep. The coughing has pulled at stitches. The nurse replaces fresh dressing.

And the man still waits and watches.

The nurse holds him again and he's nearly had enough. He'd like to sleep. To sleep again. He rests his head on her shoulder. And the doctor is busy with the stethoscope at his back. Cold on his back. The nurse lowers him back to the pillows. The doctor says she can increase his antibiotics. She says it's a chest infection. He doesn't comprehend. He's sick, that's all he knows.

The nurse runs cold water from the washbasin and wets a cloth. Sponges his face and neck. Who is he? he whispers to her. Someone from Cheyenne Mountain, I think, she says. Cheyenne Mountain. Why Cheyenne Mountain? He struggles to remember Cheyenne Mountain. Military then. Air force. Linked with Petersen he remembers. It figures. He was brought here by military chopper. It's a military hospital. In his sleep, he hears the jets… he's not certain though… he's not certain if he'd like to speak to military… McKay would have been bearable… not a stranger… he guesses he won't have any choice…

The coolness of the cloth is soothing. That alone could send him to sleep. But shivering now like he can never stop. And his head is thumping to the beat of a heart that is way too fast. He struggles to pull the sheet up. The nurse helps. And leaves the cloth draped across his forehead.

He closes his eyes. The doctor says she's given him enough to take the edge off the pain. He finds that difficult to believe. She says that she can give him something to help him sleep again. But his visitor needs to talk with him. He doesn't have to do this if he doesn't want to. The visitor will leave whenever he asks. But it is important and the visitor will explain things to him. The things that he saw out in the desert. He opens his eyes and nods and agrees. This is like that McKay guy all over again. He doesn't want to know… he doesn't want to care… but knows he does.

She presses his call button into his hand. And then, keeps her hand there tight.

"You stop this whenever you want. Whenever you need to sleep. Whenever you need something more for the pain. He can come back later. Or not at all."

He nods again. Whispers again, "who is he?"

And the dark figure speaks, "Air Force." And that still doesn't answer his question. And he's feeling uneasy… and putting two and two together pretty damn quick for his sick brain… as a cop, he's got a sense for these things… but the voice… you can never really tell the sound of your own voice… it sounds like… sounds like his own voice… and McKay said… and McKay said… and ever since he first set eyes on the first Wraith victim… nothing has been… _normal_ … and they're acting all kinda secretive over this… Jeez, why doesn't the guy just give his _name_?

"He'll come forward when I ask… You mustn't be alarmed by what you're about to see. He's… how can I put this? He's your… double, you know? But he really has come to help…" reassures the doctor. "You going to be ok with this?"

He coughs and nods. McKay had said there were… _other versions of him_… but he must be going crazy… the drugs… getting shot up in the desert… the Wraith was still making him think things?

"Not only does he look the same as you, but… you share the same name. They tell me these things can happen… You still ok with this?"

He nods again. Not hardly daring to look in the direction of the military guy.

Who now steps out into the light.

"What…" the hell…

"This is… uh… weird, huh?" The military man is trying to make light of this, but can't help glancing concerned at the heart monitor, now going loopy in the corner.

He dumbly nods back. The military man turns back into the shadows, reaching for a chair and swinging it to a place beside the bed.

The military man doesn't face the bed. Sits sideways. Looks down. The patient can't see his hands. He senses that he's fidgeting with them. In his way, the military Sheppard is as freaked out by this as the patient Sheppard. He should say something. Though he knows if he speaks he'll probably end up coughing. He makes the extra effort... to eye up the military Sheppard… a white shirt, navy jacket… an ID badge attached to a lapel. No uniform. And then… the thick black hair… the ears… nothing is different… hell, there's even a graze on his left cheek… they are exactly the same… though sadly he knows… he knows that the other Sheppard looks… younger… and there had been a casual ease in the way he moved the chair… had he… once been like that?…

The doctor asks him if he's ok again and he nods again. Though he's not ok. He's dazed by this.

She releases his hand, satisfied and signals to the nurse to leave the two men alone…

-oAo-

"I… I was expecting McKay… Woolsey… FBI… not…" And it hurt to talk so he coughed.

"Well, yeah, it's… me. John Sheppard." And there's a slight shrug. "You can call me John. And, for what it's worth, I'm a Colonel." And the Colonel looked up now, and their eyes met briefly, before the Colonel looked away again, awkward with all of this.

"But… you know McKay - a McKay?" and he glanced back. And the second time it's easier. Who would have thought the subject of Rodney could ever be an ice-breaker?

"No… talked… once…" the other Sheppard tried in reply, forcing out the words, fighting the pain in his chest. "Explained alternate versions… didn't think… didn't think I'd ever get to meet one… that's what happened… they said… when time… "

The other Sheppard was being damn calm about all of this. Resigned even. Sheppard had expected more reaction. The heart attack wouldn't have surprised him. Perhaps resigned was normal for the other Sheppard… and that's how they were different…

"A rift in space/time, yeah…" He knew what the doctor had said about explaining stuff but he was glad someone had beaten him to it. "So…" and he shifted in his chair, able to relax a little more. "Your McKay was a scientist?"

The other Sheppard nodded yet again. The hundredth time. He knew that. But it was a whole lot easier that talking.

"You're not military? Not a scientist? Were never part of his Team?"

"No. Met him… only once…"

"What were you?"

"Were?" And the other Sheppard remembered his badge, left lying on his desk with his gun. How would the military guy know that?

"Yes… were. You see, it works like this…" And Sheppard shifted in his chair, rubbed a hand over his chin, struggling to get his words right. "One of us is a long lost twin who's turned up unannounced… and… it's not me… you slipped through the time rift caused when the Wraith activated the beacon… You understand about the beacon?... You were trying to stop it? Well, you're not in your plane of reality any longer… There's no going back. We can't help you return to your world…" Ok, maybe he should have softened that a little. If he were suddenly wrenched from everything he knew, everyone he knew, how would he damn well feel to be on the receiving end of that kind of info?

"I'm sorry…" he finished lamely.

Silence from the other guy. But not heart failure time thankfully.

"You must have left behind family, friends…?" Sheppard prompted.

The other Sheppard turned his head, his words mumbled, obscured by the pillow.

"No… there's no one... And… I was…"

"What?" Sheppard frowned, trying to decipher what had been said. He hadn't caught the last word. He was sure it'd been 'running.' Running? So what had he meant? Or course, he was feverish. Could be delirious. Were they going to get any real sense out of him?

"You recording this?" The other Sheppard had seen the gadget and the green light flashing. He wasn't so far gone then. Though he coughed again feebly. So… it might have upset him.

"It's just routine. Sorry. I doubt if anyone will ever look at it. I'm just sorta tying up loose ends here. We've had our Wraith attack, thanks to the beacon-"

"The beacon?"

"Yeah. The beacon. I've said that already?… It came through with you. You might have saved your world but the buck got passed… you… ok?"

"No… not..." And the other Sheppard started coughing a couple of times weakly into his pillow, raising a hand limply, meaning to touch the left side where it hurt, failing, drawing oxygen from the tube, swallowing hard, breathing, rasping as ever. Sheppard was prepared to stop this right now. This was just going to be too painful for the guy and they'd only just got going.

"No. Don't talk. You don't have to say anything… I'll leave…" And he stood.

"Then…" The man's eyes seem to have glazed over. Couldn't focus probably. Eyelids heavy as he struggled to keep them open. He sighed before finishing. "It'd be a wasted trip…"

"It's not a problem. You sleep."

"But you… wanted… to know?" Sheppard couldn't get over that voice. A low drawl. Like his own voice? You can never really tell the sound of your own voice. You never know what you truly sound like. Rodney always said Sheppard had the sort of voice that drawled, yeah, but kinda squeaked too… and if Sheppard could ever get his aim in, that remark usually earned McKay a slap up the back of the head. No. This sounded lower. The guy was ill, he knew… But would Sheppard sound like that if…

"It can wait-"

"-No… it can't… can it?" He meant he might die.

Every few words. Every pause a gasp. A hitch in breath. Face screwed in pain. The other Sheppard seemed really prepared to put himself through the wringer for this. And what for? Posterity?

Sheppard sat down again heavily. Focusing only on the side of the bed. He still wasn't comfortable with that eye to eye contact.

"Look, you don't owe us anything. We're satisfied you were no way responsible for what happened. You're not in any trouble. All signs are… well, you tried to stop it. You've no way of knowing that you even succeeded in stopping the beacon in your reality. It just turned out wrong? I guess things happen that way. One thing leading to another. If you want to tell us anymore than that, you can. I'm here to listen, that's all. And when it's done, I can tell you some other stuff too, important stuff that you might want to hear about, or… you might not… if it were me… well, I would want to hear… but… you're not me… or… I could cut straight to the important stuff… it's your choice…"

The fan whirred away in the silence.

The other Sheppard closed his eyes… the Wraith had said that his destiny was in the desert… his death in the desert… destiny in the desert… to come through the time shift?... he had been running… turn life around again… turn the car around again… come through the time shift… and turn life round again… but you don't get second chances… ever…

… _perhaps there is a reason for your existence_…

…to die in the desert… though no one knew… no one knew he had died in the desert… had died in the desert already …

McKay had said: 'you didn't intend things to go as badly as they did. Things just don't go the way we plan.' And the Colonel had echoed McKay… 'it just turned out wrong? I guess things happen that way'…

Just too many wrong things…

"I was a cop."

It hurt to speak, to draw in and out painful breaths at just about every word, but perhaps he needn't say that much… needn't tell everything. He kept his eyes closed. He wished he could stop shivering. And just talk to this Colonel Sheppard…

"A cop?"

"Detective."

"You don't have badges in your reality?… nothing was found… yeah… sorry… they did go through your things."

"Just resigned…"

"Pissed off, huh?"

"No… not like that…"

Ok, so, he'd quit guessing… let the guy talk… But still… that hard breath at every pause.

"Three months ago… assigned a case… bodies turning up… eight… serial killer… rapid… rapid… cellular de… decomposition… coroner said…"

"Fed on by Wraith?"

"Didn't know that then… Thought… perhaps… some lab… doing experiments… dumping… or chemical poisoning by some wacko… radiation and finger marks on all bodies… seemed like… seemed like life sucked right out of them… FBI starting poking their nose in… guess it was time they did… I had nothing… and then… a new coroner did a cover-up job on the radiation-" He suddenly started coughing again, holding, curling over to his left side, moaning. The cloth slipping from his head.

Sheppard was out of his chair alarmed. "Hey, what do you want me to do?! You want the doctor?"

"No… No… fine…" as the coughing subsided. "Some water…"

Sheppard poured water into a glass from the bedside locker and stuck in a straw. He offered it to the other guy's mouth. Awkward as hell. He'd be awkward at this if it were McKay, or Ronon, or Teyla in this bed. Always left it to the nursing staff. Yeah, it was crap of him. But this brought it home to him even more… the other Sheppard… not a copy… even another version struck him as being the wrong word… this was him… was John Sheppard who'd just got unlucky… his own body… and he was forced to watch as an outsider… in a weird dream… this was unnerving… what this other Sheppard was feeling… experiencing… he would too… he could too…

He placed the empty glass back next to the jug. The other Sheppard had kept his eyes closed and had gone very quiet. Sheppard wondered if he'd gone to sleep. He probably should have turned off the recorder. He picked up the cloth from the bed and, taking it to the room's basin, rinsed it out with fresh cold water. And then back at the bed. Where he hesitated a moment before folding the cloth over, and gently laying it on the other Sheppard's forehead. Hell, he was still burning up.

A low murmur of thanks told him the other Sheppard was still with him.

"Hey, part of the service." He sat down again, studying the floor, leaning forward, pressing the fingertips of both hands together. "If you're anything like me… you won't take good advice… but I'm going to give it to you anyhow… let the doctor get you something?... you can't carry on like this…" It was being downright stubborn. And yeah, that was him in a nutshell too.

"No… I can finish… you still recording?"

Sheppard sighed. "Yeah. Ok. So the FBI were covering up?"

"I got a lead. A nurse… someone I knew…" He paused. And Sheppard wondered, again, if he'd fallen asleep.

…_Should have asked her out… she expected it… dinner… drink… don't do that… never done that… a loner… a loser… she'd find that out… saved her the trouble…_

"I asked her… if anyone… with likely radiation poisoning… had come to the hospital… was this one guy… at a motel… wasn't there… anymore… got a hunch… hung around… and his neighbour appears… a weirdo… I followed him…"

…_poker game… I'm out of my league… they know it… the word's around about IOU's to Mikey… for once, a winning hand… out of funds… throws the hand in… hell, it could only happen to me… twenty two grand… the guy… what happens?… he sympathises?... understands?… a worthy opponent thing?… he stands to leave… he won't take anymore money from me…_

"He guesses I'm on to him… takes a runner… and…" He grimaced, turning his head on the pillow, fighting the pain. And Sheppard frowned, while still patiently sitting and waiting for him to continue. "Jumps off the top of a building… takes a dive… nine storeys down… lies there… still… on the concrete…"

_...crap!… I'm in so much trouble now… chasing a suspect… driving them to their death…_

"And then… he just gets up and runs off…"

"Wraith heal. Regenerate. It's damn hard to kill one."

"Know that now."

"But… he didn't look like a Wraith?... you would really notice a Wraith in public… he just couldn't go unnoticed…"

"Turns out… he disguised himself… cosmetics… all in his room." Breathing hard on the oxygen now. Setting his teeth hard before going on. "I figured he'd return to the motel… no sign… though he'd left his calling card… the body of the guy next door…"

…_and the holdall with the money… done this before… stashed evidence away… has even taken bribes… if he thinks about it… hates himself… so doesn't think… it helps… with things… though its not enough to keep Mikey off his back this time… got roughed up… they said they'd break his legs… cop or no cop… they can't burn his house down… he's already sleeping rough in his car… lucky huh?... he doesn't need anywhere… most nights at a game… why do it?... forget… adrenalin rush… misses… misses too much… a lifetime to forget… could drink… could do drugs… could even blow his brains out… this isn't so destructive… holding back… holding back, hoping one day life might get lucky… think and hope... keep dreaming..._

"FBI turn up and I'm hustled off to Area 51…"

"You think they're the guys who fixed a satellite sensor to your car?"

"You know… about that?... Yeah, that's them… they want me to sign some papers… to say I won't talk… I won't do it…"

..._the wrong thing to say. He should keep quiet. It'll lead too quickly to the next question…_

"Why not? Because they're covering up and you don't think it's right?"

…_l__et him think that… why not?… why say it's because he thinks he might be in deep shit because of the money in the back of his car…_

"No…"

"No?"

And the other Sheppard opened his eyes, and for the first time looked at Sheppard straight.

"The Wraith… had money in his room… its Vegas… I'd followed the Wraith to a casino… he raised funds gambling… I… I… took… _stole_ the money… I thought I was in trouble… I was trying to save my ass…"

Sheppard was… hell, how do you respond to that?

"You see…" continued the other Sheppard, settling wearily back into his pillows, "we look alike… we have the same name… but we're not alike at all… as a cop… you pick things up… judge people… I can tell… you've never done anything like that… straight and honest… me… a dirty cop…"

So that's why the other Sheppard was so insistent on telling his story despite the pain? To come clean before he died? A confession? Sheppard was his priest? No. You didn't have to be a cop to judge people… the other Sheppard just wasn't like that... or was he biased?... or had he fallen into the trap that just because the other Sheppard was so badly injured that somehow exonerated him from all wrongdoing? Heck, now he even _sounded_ like a priest… no… this revelation of the other Sheppard's was all wrong… no… this other Sheppard wasn't bad… this other Sheppard went up against the Wraith… went up against the Wraith to try and save his world… and in Sheppard's books you just didn't do that… if you were bent, crooked or any other damned euphemism…

"So… what d'ye think?... feel sorry for me now?" And the other Sheppard coughed again, reaching for the pain in his side, closing his eyes.

"I… I don't believe you."

And the eyes sprung open.

"What? That I didn't take the money? I had no excuse. No starving wife and four kids to support on a detective's salary. I gambled, Colonel…Pure and simple... I gambled... A lot… I got into debt… Heavy debt. I took money when I could. Bribes. Once, even a haul of drugs to sell on. "

Somehow, the other Sheppard was finding strength in this. Perhaps he had needed to get this off his chest. Perhaps it had been weighing him down… a guilty conscience… Sheppard the priest again.

And this was crazy. The other Sheppard seemed like he was deliberately trying to make Sheppard dislike him. No… self-hatred… Sheppard the shrink now, huh?... self-hatred, loud and clear… hurt… hurting himself… and Sheppard knew all about self-hatred… he hated the way he'd been the one to wake up the Wraith… not his fault that it happened the way it did… but it'd been him all the same… wrong place, wrong time… and he'd lived to witness the consequences right across Pegasus… he hated it that he'd been the one to kill Colonel Sumner… hated it that Ford and Elizabeth had been left behind… he'd let people down… hated himself until it hurt… self-hurt that is so deep it makes dreams of Kolya severing a hand… So… what was eating this guy?...

And…

Crap…

The damn recorder was still running…

He'd never thought to turn it off… If the other Sheppard carried on like this, Sheppard was never going to be able to make SGC's offer to him… the damage was probably already done…

"I don't believe you," he repeated slowly. Carefully. He meant he didn't believe the other Sheppard was bad. But those words were the one's that were going to get recorded. And anyone listening later could make what they liked out of it. "Now… what happened at Area 51?"

The other Sheppard stared at him, and then comprehending, glanced over to the recorder, its light madly flashing green. He sunk low onto his pillow, closing his eyes again, coughing painfully, feebly before carrying on.

"I met McKay then…"

…_and he trusted me too… guess you guys are suckers for hard luck stories…_

"He ignored the papers… and showed me round anyway… the Chair…"

…_bathed in blue light… beckoning… he so wanted to touch it… stuff he was told… didn't seem real… here was a Chair… so very real… wondered how it worked… deep down… felt as if he knew… had only to… touch… and… think…_

"Used it to fight the Wraith-"

"-He didn't say how the Wraith got to your Earth in the first place? How they found out about its location? How they managed to travel from their Galaxy to yours?"

"No…"

And finding answers to those questions was one of the primary reasons why SGC had sent him.

"But they'd… been brought down by the Chair… mind control… and my Wraith… somehow survived… showed… the spaceships… Darts?... this is crazy… tell me I'm not talking about this stuff…" And he looked at Sheppard and knew it was all deadly serious, that Sheppard understood perfectly everything he was describing, that this was all true for his reality too.

"And then… there was the other Wraith… another Wraith who'd survived… and I got to see a Wraith up close… for real… no makeup… real… up close…"

…_dry as a desert outside, no place to go… think and hope… keep dreaming… die in the desert… dirt is all around… got inside my head… I know the future… I'll show you your destiny… John Sheppard…_

"Freaked you out, huh?"

And he struggled to open his eyes, fighting sleep and nodded. "How many… have you?..." His words slurred. Sheppard doubted he'd be able to carry on with this much longer.

"Lost count. The Queens are worse."

"Queens?"

"Females."

"You fight Wraith… all the time?"

"Public enemy number one." The other Sheppard fell quiet again. "You want to stop now?" But he shook his head. A deep breath.

"McKay thought…" and he lost it. Couldn't remember. Fought to remember. "McKay thought… he was building the homing device… the other scientist… a bomb… the Wraith fed a lot to fight off radiation… there were generals at a meeting…"

…_uncomfortable here… in awe… military leaders discussing the fate of his world… he hasn't been near military for six years… guards all round… feels they all know… know what Rodney knows… that he's guilty… that he's been thrown out… disgraced… that he has no place here… but… it's true, he has no place here… this is not his problem… not really… just a cop… ordinary guy... one of millions… who'll never know what gets decided in this room… who'll get blown to kingdom come and never know the reason why…_

A coughing fit and his chest, his stomach hurt, ache so much. His wounds seemed to pin him to the bed. And Sheppard quickly poured him more water. He gratefully drank again, fighting the nausea that even drinking the water brought, closing his eyes against the light in the room though he knew it wasn't really that bright.

"You've had enough," said the voice of Sheppard.

"Not long now… McKay asks…"

…_McKay asks… forces him to remember all those things he'd been trying to forget… the hand slipping from his… a final smile… a final wave… and she walks away into the hot desert sun… lost to him forever… her destiny in the desert… their destiny in the desert… he tells McKay… tells him that McKay knows everything… but he knows nothing… the hurt that can last a lifetime... _

"McKay asks… I keep them informed… if I find out anything… but… hell, they're going to tie my hands… they're going… to shut the case… they can't have anyone… finding out… about the Wraith… panic…"

"So you threw in the towel."

"No… I took the money and ran, Colonel… I took the money… and ran…"

_... it's s__tupid… if the world comes to an end… if the Wraith swarmed Earth… where did he think he was going?... somewhere to spend a few thousand dollars… that's all he needed… an out of town poker game… Johnny Cash on the car stereo… way to go… way to die… not his problem… the military had thrown him out all those years ago… he was a nobody… a loser… except… McKay had said…_

Sheppard was frowning. He had hoped the other Sheppard had taken the hint and wouldn't bring the money up again. And the other Sheppard looked his way and wearily decided to explain.

"McKay knew… he knew about the money… I told him…"

…_and they'd been a smile in the scientist's face… smug condescending bastard… the money was nothing to him… peanuts… let the poor cop keep his little bit of spending money… the Wraith had been dealing in hundreds of thousands… if not millions… to get the materials he needed…_

"He kept quiet… he let me keep it."

And Sheppard would have done the same, especially if the guy had owned up. But a few thousand dollars equivalent. Was nothing. It was cynical he knew, but it might even have been a sweetener… and he suddenly found himself taking a dislike to this other McKay…

"He trusted me… told me the truth… I didn't have to sign documents…"

Ok, so perhaps he'd got to review his opinion of this McKay. Or not…

"Hey, don't put him on a pedestal. It was you who figured it out… found out where the Wraith was…"

"How do you know?"

"You were alone. First one there. They had all the technology. Been working on this for three months… but it was you who found the guy…" Ironic, huh? And Sheppard was going to try his damn hardest to get some score points on the other Sheppard's board.

"McKay had told me… the Wraith would need power… I remembered the silver trailer from the motel… it leaked oil… there was leaking oil… where… the last body… was dumped… I… just… followed… the… power… lines… out… of… Vegas…"

… _the lyrics of Cash still in his head…_

… '_I know it's been done havin' one girl who loves you'…_

…_slams the car into reverse, turns the car around…_

… '_right or wrong'…_

…_turn life around…_

… '_weak or strong'…_

…_begin again… _

… '_don't know that I will but until I can find me'…_

…_where was he going anyhow?… no place to go, said the Wraith…_

… '_a girl who'll stay and won't play games behind me'…_

… _never was… never is… never will be… _

… '_I'll be what I am'…_

… _I know the future, said the Wraith… he'll never forget… can't ever stop hurting…_

… '_a solitary man'… _

…_think and hope… keep on dreaming, said the Wraith…_

… '_a solitary man'…_

… _but the odds are never in favour of second chances…_

-oAo-


	3. Chapter 3

Guess Things Happen That Way - Part Three

Dr Bianca appeared at the door of the rest room and leaned against the frame, holding her own paper cup, as he tried fathoming out how the damn coffee machine worked.

"He fell asleep on you eventually then?" she asked as she sipped her drink.

"Yeah," and he nearly cheered when some steaming hot brown stuff finally did decide to spit itself out.

"Like I said… he's tough…" and she pushed herself upright, entering the room, throwing herself down on some red plastic couch affair. She looked dead beat. And then he remembered her saying how they were treating all Area 51 victims here. "Didn't get to finish your talk, then?"

"No."

He sat down opposite her, quickly placing the scalding cup down on a small table.

"I guess you must be hungry by now. There's a microwave and a freezer stacked full of meals that you're welcome to use." She said, indicating with her chin over his shoulder. "It's late. The dining hall will have closed by now."

"Thanks." He stared down at the steaming cup. He didn't mean to be quite so moody, but… somehow… he felt exhausted, drained too… watching the other Sheppard struggle for breath… willing him get his words out… with him, every step of the way…

"I'd like you to wrap up now, if that's alright… get him comfortable for the night…"

"Hey, you're the boss, here. Remember, you told me?"

She half-smiled. "We still can't get that temperature down… and that cough" she shook her head, "Now his blood pressure's playing up…"

"You think I should leave?" And he hadn't gotten to the part he'd really come for.

"No. A good night's sleep usually works wonders." She finished her cup and stood. "You want me to look at that ankle?"

"No. Old injury. Just playing up a little." He thought he'd covered his wince when he sat down. No way was he going to let her near him… not when… well… he was pretty sure she was coming onto him… she was going to get nowhere… she'd called him weird… she wasn't his type… come to think of it… no… he wasn't going there… except… well, he was alone and nothing much was going to change that… but being alone didn't make him available… and the other John Sheppard was plaguing his mind… he actually didn't want to talk about… _anything_ right now…

"How did you do it?"

"Fell down some stairs."

"You? Really? Hero's work, huh?" How much had they told her about him? Or she'd made a point of finding out…

"Yeah… work…" Of course, he could have told her, he'd jerked it when his F302 got hit by the Wraith and he went into free-fall and he narrowly avoided being crushed to pulp on the Earth's surface… that would have really impressed…

"You'll want to continue in the morning? You been assigned quarters?" Crap, she was going to invite him home?

"No." He guessed no one had anticipated that he'd stay over. His driver had left a number and had said to call if he needed anything. Perhaps he could find a motel.

"When you've eaten, there's a locker in the corner… blankets, pillows… find yourself a comfy couch… it's what we do when things run late." He breathed out with relief as she made for the door. Another crooked smile on her face, however. "Though expect the night shift nurses to pop in… that's for coffee… bathroom's down the corridor… I'll get someone to bring you toiletries…" It was all too damn personal.

She was right about the nurses, but wrong about the comfy couch… there wasn't one. Two reasons why he couldn't sleep. No. There were three. The third was the other John Sheppard.

He laid in the darkness, fitfully sleeping, unable even to toss and turn. He'd end up on the floor if he did. Faint light came through the half open door from the corridor. The nurses had thought to switch off the lights even if they did snigger and giggle too much whenever they came into the room… hell, anyone would have thought he lay there naked… and once, half-asleep, he found himself doing a quick check to make sure there actually wasn't some part of his anatomy showing somewhere…

He laid there in the darkness… dosing only, his eyes hazily following the shaft of light back through to the corridor… to the other Sheppard only two doors away…

He laid there in the darkness, remembering, thinking…

"You don't need to say anything else. We can guess the rest," he'd said. And then realised, the other Sheppard had finally, and thankfully, fallen asleep. He'd flicked off the recording device, watching its red light blinking away across the room, listening to the unsteady breathing of the other Sheppard, and the fan still going through its whirring and clicking routine.

He'd only seen the photos… but he could see, imagine, what had happened at the trailer as if he were there… they were both John Sheppard after all… they would react the same way in the same situation… he couldn't say how he would have been over the money issue… perhaps later the other John Sheppard might explain what had led up to that… he needed him to open up… damn, he was a counsellor now?... he just wasn't trained for this… give him a target and he'd shoot it… give him a Jumper and he'd fly it… though he couldn't help feeling… well, some mitigating circumstances… that something had happened that had turned the other John Sheppard that way… he was essentially… good… he'd owned up about the money, that proved that… and the other McKay had felt that way too, had trusted him… and if Sheppard had been in his shoes, would he ever have been tempted to steal the money?... to have turned to gambling even?... it could go that way, he supposed… he had a sprained ankle to prove that things could go that way… and he'd seen plenty of good men in his time cope with stress, trauma, turning to gambling, drinking their troubles away… drugs… he hoped he was stronger than that… perhaps, perhaps even after everything that had happened in Pegasus, he just hadn't been tested yet… if something had ever happened… if something had ever happened close and real on Earth… perhaps he too would fall to pieces… couldn't cope… or had to find a way to cope… they were both John Sheppard after all…

He laid there in the darkness… the other Sheppard only two doors away… He laid there in the darkness… remembering… fighting the Superwraith… the desert was the same… the distances were the same… he was alone… he could turn back… chance the cold of the desert at night… wait for help… The other Sheppard hadn't that option… he could've turned back too… he could've waited for help too… but if he thought the world was about to get vaporised… if he thought a signal beacon was about to go out, bringing swarms of human-feeding Wraith to Earth… then he hadn't the sort of choices Sheppard had faced… the other Sheppard had no choice at all but to take the Wraith on…

-oAo-

The other Sheppard lays in the darkness… awake… coughing… remembering… the voice had come through his sleep… 'You don't need to say anything else. We can guess the rest.' Too tired to reply. Had heard the door open and close. He was alone again. The nurse had said Sheppard would return in the morning… Sheppard can guess everything? Yeah, military… he'd know how the fight went… details… but Sheppard can guess _everything_? And McKay had known 'everything' too... He recalls the details of a week ago... they blur and the painkillers return him to another darkness… for he's taught himself never to remember his nightmares…

-oAo-

Sheppard laid there in the darkness… the other Sheppard only two doors away… he laid there in the darkness, half-guessing, on the edge of sleep, half-dreaming… he'd only seen the photos… read the file... but they were both John Sheppard after all…

…He pulls up on the road and switches off the engine. He's spotted the silver trailer and pick-up truck a half-mile back. Power lines that follow the road. Power cables that snake their way from a pylon near the trailer. The Wraith has to be here. A call to McKay. He still has the scientist's card though he's never bothered to put the number into the phone.

The signal goes dead. What was it that McKay was trying to say? What the hell does he do now?

Go it alone.

Looks out of the passenger window. Assessing the situation.

_The desert. He's going to die in the desert._

It's like some western. There's no cover. No shrub, no bushes to speak of. A slight dip between the road and the trailer but it's not enough. The Wraith's chosen his site well. 360 degree vision all round. Even if Sheppard were to go round the back. Even if he were to go low on foot, he'd get spotted. The car's probably already been seen. A red car. An unwashed, faded red car is still like a great big target sign. But he has to take the car. He needs the car for cover though the engine noise will alert the Wraith. But probably if the Wraith kills by feeding, he won't be armed. And Sheppard wonders what bookie would give him odds on that…

_He's going to die out here…_

This is suicidal. He might as well taken his gun to his head years ago… but there were voices in his past that say you don't do that… and somehow he respected and lived by those rules… however hard the hurt got… perhaps his life is his punishment… to live out hell on Earth…

He could always drive away… They can find him with the satellite locator. He guesses they're still tracking him. But what if… what if… the Wraith is in there… now… this very minute… about to do his stuff…

_Dry as the desert. I will show you your destiny. _

He makes his choice. There. And swings the car off the road.

McKay says he could be like the Sheppard he knew. A hero. He's not doing this to prove anything to McKay. He's not doing this to prove he's equal to or better than Sheppard the hero. He's doing this because he has too. McKay doesn't realise… doesn't realise how every day, every goddamned day is a fight for him… every day he has to find the strength to stand alone… though he lied… he lied when he said he didn't care… he's been lying to himself that he doesn't care… and it's taken him till now to realise that… he has always cared… it was always in him to care… its in him to care because he's John Sheppard… though caring doesn't always win the game… actually, caring hardly ever wins the game… and he doubts he's going to win this one…

He takes the car in slowly, as noiselessly as he can, parking parallel to the trailer, driver's door facing away. Maximum cover from the car if he needs it. Close. Twenty feet away. Minimum distance to walk to the door. Switches off the engine again. No reaction from the trailer. Perhaps the guy's sleeping… Perhaps he's not even there… Reaches for the glove box… Clips a round into his silver pistol… custom made… won in a poker game along with the car when luck once ran good… a lucky gun, huh?

Gets out. Deep breath as he rounds the car hood. Completely out in the open. Surely if the Wraith is going to shoot, he'd do it now. He's ready, he's ready, to dive back to the car. Police training. Across open ground. Holds the gun at an angle, arms protecting his body.

And then… the point of no return…

A split second.

A window smashes.

He's hit.

Doesn't register the pain. Feels the pressure at his chest. And looks down… at the moist red patch widening on his jacket lapel.

_Shit! Get the hell out__!_

Sprints back. Throws himself over the car hood. The Wraith is firing from the broken window. He knows the sound. Automatic rifle. He's going deaf with the crack, crack, crack. He returns fire from the car hood. But it's like a war zone. Metal shrapnel from the car flying in all directions. What chance does he have? Clips empty and he has to get to the glove box again. Crap! Why didn't he stash spare ammo in his jacket? But a pistol against a rifle? Odds are low. Odds are fucking non existent. Crawling across car seats with all this stuff pinging, cutting around his head. Luck's in. Doesn't get hit. No, not luck, a freaking miracle. And the Wraith's outside. _Two_ rifles. Now that's just plain showing off… And his car's disintegrating… punched full of holes. He's up. Firing off his second clip. His last clip… But nothing's affecting this guy. Who keeps on walking and shooting.

Phizzit… a bullet ricocheting under the car… and… luck's out… slips down the back hub of the car… in the dirt… hit in the side… and the pain kicks in, cutting him in two and that's when the breathing gets tough… not that it matters… won't be breathing much longer anyway… the Wraith's coming round the car… to finish him…

_Fuck you! _

'_Defiance is as sweet as life itself.'_

He weakly, shakily raises the gun. It clicks empty. He's done.

Things are going dark. He removes his shades. It doesn't help. Screws up his eyes to focus. Screws up his eyes against the pain. The Wraith's a blur. A black blur against a pink sunset. A cheap western. Gunfight at sunset. The Wraith drops the rifles. He's flexing his hands. He's moving in to feed. And Sheppard can't shift. He's easy pickings…

_Come on, you bastard! Come on! You really think I care? You really think that? I've got nothing to lose..._

His ears are whizzing, but he makes out the noise of planes. Two. A10 Thunderbolts. He knows them. Cannon at the front. Hell, and they couldn't have come, like, a couple of minutes ago? The Wraith whips round and he's running to his trailer.

Who's going to make it first? The Wraith turning on the device. Or the planes.

He braces himself... which of them is going to finish the demolition derby on his car?

He's deaf again with the explosion… heat and percussion all round… flinches with a second wave of heat… a wave of static that makes his hair stand on end… a weird noise like a train braking hard… shit, it was a draw?… he'd gone through all this for nothing?... he couldn't even be lucky when getting himself killed?...

Burning debris falling all around…

And the sun blanks out suddenly behind a low hill… shadows… an ending…

Perhaps its ok… he's still alive… when the odds weren't high…

Breathing's hard… he's screwed with pain… but he has to move… the fires… his car might still go up… but why?... but why keep fighting?

He's on his feet… just… and staggers… the pain… collapses… rolls over in agony…

Why keep fighting?

_There must be a reason for your existence._

A low evening wind catches and rattles at wreckage, fluttering hard at flames.

_Die in the desert._

There should be stars. But he can't see them.

_A solitary man._

Her necklace is all he has.

_A solitary man__…_

Why keep fighting?

-oAo-

It was early morning when Sheppard contacted SGC and gave them a progress report. And one of the odd things about being back on Earth, being back amongst 'normal' people was getting used to a cell phone. He'd been given the latest edition of some brand or other but it was lost on him, seeming like old technology… and any onlooker might have thought he'd never used a damn phone before in his life judging by the way he fumbled around with it. And here was the guy who could fire off drones with a single thought…

He was outside the hospital. The Nevada sun already bright and warm. Though the surroundings and weather meant nothing to him as he paced, limped around, impatient with the tech on the other end who wasn't happy with his ID. He'd only been away a day and they'd forgotten him already? At least, Sam was back and was a friendly ear to talk to, though her search for Travellers had proven fruitless. She'd leave it to him to continue. Larrin. Well, that was something to look forward to… And Teyla was due in at Atlantis and could get out to him by late afternoon if he still needed her. And yeah, he reflected, some morale support would be good though he planned to finish this by nightfall. No way was he going to have a bunch of nurses bring him clean boxers for a second morning… And Teyla could bring him a change of clothes, Sam suggested… Right…

It was too soon to return indoors and he took a stroll around hospital. Paving, trees and car parks. Sprinklers over some lawned area hissed and sent up a cool spray under caught with rainbows, filling the surrounding air with warm, damp, earthy scents. And John Sheppard out… strolling? Well, that had to be a first. A solitary F16 from the nearby air field of Nellis, screamed over sudden, low and fast, and Sheppard held up a hand over his eyes and followed its progress, the sun catching metal for instant only, sparking and dazzling. The roar subsided and he headed back to his wing of the hospital…

_…The two Thunderbolts came in at an angle over the Nevada mountains. By his place at the side of car, he strained to see, still holding his side tight against the pain and the blood, still gripping his gun though he had no idea why. Just never had bothered to let it fall. The planes caught the evening sun and shone a rosy pink. You could say… you could say they were… beautiful… A memory that hurt. A memory of what it was like to fly. Dials. Controls. The ground hurtling fast beneath you. Power. G's. Formation. Elevation. Distance. Speed. Direction. Finding targets. The order to fire. They came in straight, precise and low then. The explosion loud in his ears. He flinched against the heat. The planes circling. Out of sight beyond the smoke cloud. Pilots reporting status. Target annihilated. Banking up high. Returning home…_

Sheppard glanced over to the window he figured belonged to the room of the other Sheppard. Hell, what had last night been about? He'd played out the scene in his head. The cop thing. The issue of the money. The fact that the other Sheppard had never experienced Atlantis. The way that the other Sheppard lay so ill. All seemed to reinforce their separateness… and then… last night… it was as if he were there… in the other Sheppard's shoes… connected… and they were the same…

Was that a dream?

It was one of the damnest, weirdest feelings he'd had for a long time… probably as far back as first sitting in the Ancient Control Chair… certainly on par with having his mind searched by Replicators and Wraith… though that had hurt… this was getting in the other Sheppard's mind… this was like… and he was never, ever, going to admit this to anyone… he probably even struggled to admit it to himself… but… there were times when he felt… an empathy with Atlantis… when he felt that Atlantis came alive with the touch of his hands… when she responded to his every thought… when they were one and the same…

And now this… a sort of empathy with the other Sheppard…

But that feeling too… of something elusive… something about the other Sheppard that was there but he wasn't seeing, wasn't sharing… no… the other Sheppard knew how to fly… knew how to love flying…

Sheppard grabbed a quick breakfast and then Dr. Bianca allowed him back in with the other Sheppard. She confirmed it was pneumonia. They'd done bloods and X-rays. But he'd had a good night, she explained, before they entered the room. The temperature easing its way down and the cough no way near as bad. He'd even been persuaded to try eating a little but hadn't kept it down. And that was more than Sheppard needed to know. Sheppard wasn't entirely convinced, however, that the other Sheppard was feeling any better. The fan was still working and although he had been shaved, the other Sheppard looked as ill as ever. Breathing as difficult as ever. Eyes that wouldn't focus. Limbs that wouldn't move. The effects of the drugs, he guessed. But nothing seemed changed.

"Hey." Some recognition in his eyes but other than that, the other Sheppard made little response.

"You ok if I turn on the recorder?" Sheppard had left it in place and it hadn't been moved.

The other Sheppard replied by raising his eyebrows. Whatever. Do what you like…

Sheppard clicked his remote, feeling a little unsettled. The guy clearly had issues, but, yesterday, Sheppard had felt some of that was lifting. He understood that the guy was sick. Habits of a lifetime aren't that easy to shrug off then…

He grabbed his chair again and placed it by the side of the bed, exactly as the day before.

"What did you think of McKay?" Straight to business.

"You don't… you don't want to know about the trailer site?"

"Forensic and scientists have pretty much sussed that out." Cold. Impersonal. He remembered last night again and felt embarrassed by it. Falling asleep, while playing the scene out in his head… dreaming it even… he was military… you learn to forget dreams… feelings… personal stuff… easier that way… gets the job done with no baggage… no… you _try_ and learn to forget… and it's never easy… to say you don't care… to push it all into the background… he played the scene out in his head last night… and felt he knew how the other Sheppard had been thinking… an affinity with him that was only natural… he was certain that they'd been no fear in the other Sheppard at the Wraith site… no fear, calculating his every next move… no fear, even, calculating the risks involved…. though he could pretty much guarantee he was going to get shot or end up a desiccated husk or even get blown up… no fear, knowing that the job had to be done… and, no fear?… people judge and say it's a death wish… and Sheppard felt there was enough about this other Sheppard to believe that was true…

"Just one thing? Did you actually get to see the beacon device?" Sheppard was sure he hadn't.

"No."

Sheppard simply nodded and repeated his first question. "McKay… what did you think of McKay?"

"He wore a suit."

"A suit?" Well, he wasn't after a physical description exactly, but the other Sheppard had meant, this McKay was no more than FBI. IOA. Establishment. Paper pusher.

"Yeah… Your one doesn't?"

"No. Uniform. But not a suit." Not that it mattered. But he needed to break the ice again with the other Sheppard. And it was reassuring that the other Sheppard was finding talking easier. "What did you think to him as a scientist?"

"You wanting… to blame all this on him?"

"No. But like I said yesterday. Three months with all the technology at his fingertips and a local cop gets to find the Wraith. Kinda suggests he might not be so hot at his job. The Wraith was amassing supplies for his device. He wasn't getting that from the local hardware store. He was doing deals… getting hold of stuff that was radioactive. It had to be traceable somehow. Computer records somewhere… Our Rodney, _McKay_, can hack into anything. And… he never mentioned how the Wraith found out about Earth… that suggests the Wraith had managed to leave Pegasus undetected."

"He just might not have told me everything… I was just a cop off the street turning up Wraith victims…"

"He was asking you to help… he'd run out of ideas…"

"He trusted me." The other Sheppard closed his eyes wearily. That's more than he'd wanted to say.

"He explained about another Sheppard he'd once met? That's how you knew about alternate versions in different realities. Did he say anything about him?"

"He was… the leader of a team… Saved his… world… many times over." A hero. And McKay had believed he was capable of being the same.

"Sounds to me he was laying a guilt trip on you…" Is that what happened? The other Sheppard took on the Wraith to prove something to this McKay? To prove… to prove all John Sheppards could be heroes?

The other Sheppard began coughing, coughing through the words. "He trusted me." No one had done for him in such a long time.

Sheppard stood quickly, knowing the routine, and poured him a glass of water, offering the straw to his mouth when he'd managed some sort of control over the coughing. He watched him take sips only. This was tough. This was tough and he should leave the guy alone, but there was really something he needed to say, and he was throwing the other Sheppard far more of a life line than the other McKay ever had.

The other Sheppard finished drinking and gasped out the words again. "He trusted me."

"Actually, he let you down… big time…" he said quietly, deliberately, looking the other Sheppard squarely in the face, making sure the other Sheppard knew just how earnest he was being…

"What?" And the other Sheppard sucked in hard on his oxygen, two or three times. He was guessing there was some sort of revelation coming his way and he would be guessing right.

Sheppard put down the glass and sat again, leaning on the side of the bed with folded arms. He had no intention of being melodramatic… he was going to do this casual… but he still looked hard at the other Sheppard… and it was unnerving on his part to do this… a mirror… himself on a bad day… a very bad day… but the other Sheppard was going to know he meant every word he was about to say…

"When your McKay met the other version of us, a member of a team… alarm bells should have started ringing… he should have realised that with one Sheppard in that universe, there was a high probability of another Sheppard in his own. He should have hunted you out."

"Perhaps he did… and… didn't like what he found… just didn't want to know…"

"I doubt that… otherwise he would have discovered what we know about you… and he really wouldn't have wanted to let you go knowing that… I'm even surprised he let you go when he did…"

"What… what is that?"

"Can you remember what McKay told you about the Ancient Control Chair?"

"It fired weapons of some sort… and they brought down the Wraith."

"Nothing about genetics?"

The other Sheppard closed his eyes. This was tiring. Confusing. He really couldn't remember. The Chair sat in the room bathed in blue light. Cables leading off to computers. He'd felt drawn towards it. It'd been… and it was crazy for a guy to think this way… but it felt a thing of beauty, a thing to be venerated, a thing to be respected. It felt sacrilegious that it'd been placed in this room in Area 51. But it was there. It was theirs. Nothing to do with him. Was nothing to do with him now. He was unsure if he even wanted to hear the Colonel out. They'd found something out about him. McKay hadn't. So what? He was tired of all their games. It was hurting to talk. His chest, his side a dull ache eating at him non stop. And his head was starting to thump. He could ask the Colonel to leave. He'd been told he could. He'd given them everything they needed. And he needed to be left alone now. And pretty soon, his military background was going to be brought up… he knew it… and really… he didn't care to go into that right now… or ever…

"Genetics? No. Don't think so. Can't remember." Jeez, he couldn't even think what genetics were…

Sheppard straightened up in his chair. He was getting used to the other Sheppard's body language. And he was tiring the other Sheppard out fast. "Sorry. This is too much to take in. I'll go."

"No." He didn't know why he said that when he meant yes. That was his chance and he turned it down. Nice guy after all, he supposed. "Though… I might… fall asleep…" He wished he would.

"Don't worry, I'll try and keep this interesting," though Sheppard knew he was going to struggle to keep it simple and wasn't exactly sure if he were up to the job. Explanations of Ancient science had never ever come into his work definition as military commander of Atlantis. This was Rodney's field. "Right… story time, folks… A Chair works with a neural interface… whoever sits in a Chair can operate it through mind control… but you have to have the right genetic makeup… the Chairs were created by a race of humans we now called Ancients, who lived thousands of years ago. Superhumans if you like. And for us lowly ordinary humans to operate the Chair and other tech of theirs also left behind, we have to possess one particular gene in common with theirs. It's called the ATA gene. It's rare to have it."

"You have it?"

"Yeah."

"And now…" and he was guessing this too… "you're saying… I do too?"

"We've tested your DNA, and, yeah, you're right, you have it too. Like I said… you're a John Sheppard… your McKay should have had you checked out. It's not difficult. Can be done without you ever knowing. And it gets worse… or better… depending how you wanna look at it… there's strong genes and there's weak ones. The strong genes can operate more tech and do it better. They're measured by what the scientists like to call the Calorie Counter. Called that because of energy output."

It was also called the P pointer, power pointer, by some female techs referring to male holders of the genes but he wasn't about to get into that…

"A 100 base level was set by one of our Generals."

General O'Neill.

"Most are just below that level, including all those who've been artificially implanted with the gene. There are a few over. We have a doctor at 122… I hold the highest at 145. But… you're coming in at the top. 171."

He waited for some reaction. There was none. He pushed it further.

"I'm surprised that Chair didn't pop into action with you just being in the same room."

"What… you offering… me work?" Trust. A new life. A second chance. They don't happen.

"We… need you, yeah." Why not, finish it. "We need you…" looking down to the space between his feet, coz this really wasn't easy to say, and then looking up again, "We need you to pull through this."

The reaction there this time. A mouth set firm, cynical, like there was no way he was ever going to let himself react. But a flicker in the other Sheppard's eyes all the same… that he couldn't hide.

"Look," and this wasn't easy for Sheppard to say either, opening up was never his thing, "we all get world weary sometimes…"

"Yeah…"

Sheppard sighed. So much for the appeal from the heart.

"Atlantis then? How much did McKay say about Atlantis?"

"A place in the other Galaxy… where McKay worked from…"

"Atlantis. Not just a place. Imagine five blocks of central Vegas, complete with scrapers, squeeze it into a pentagon and fill it with the highest tech imaginable and you have the _city _of Atlantis. Big difference is, Atlantis floats and it flies through space. A spaceship built by the Ancients. We brought our Atlantis from Pegasus to Earth to fight this latest attack of the Wraith."

Currently parked up in the Southern Atlantic, out of shipping lanes, and out of the Navy's hair, who'd done nothing but complain about the security cordon in San Francisco Bay since they first landed there.

"We had two Chairs. One in Area 51 that the Wraith got to. That leaves the one on Atlantis. Atlantis needs to be back in Pegasus. It's where she belongs."

It was his own sentiment he knew and he didn't particularly care that it went down on the recording.

"We owe it to all the humans who live there under the Wraith threat but no way is SGC going to let us do that trip. The Chair is needed for Earth's defence. So we desperately need another Chair. And then there's the problem of power. We use something called ZPMs, developed by the Ancients, a technology that we've never been able to copy. We rely on finding odd abandoned ZPMs from centuries ago. And Atlantis ZPM's were seriously depleted getting her here."

Though Rodney was now working flat out to find some system to recharge them. It was all they could do to get Teyla through the wormhole and Sam through the Gate.

"The Chair uses weapons called drones. Again Ancient technology. Again we've never been able to manufacture them. And stocks are running low…"

He stopped, uncertain that the other Sheppard hadn't fallen asleep. But those eyes struggled open again.

Sheppard managed a smile. "Still with me, huh?… Sorry, if I'm boring you… as a rule I don't talk this much… leave it to McKay."

The other Sheppard nodded, understanding.

"I promise," and he held up his hands, "I am getting to a point, here… We discovered Atlantis five years ago and not all areas have been explored yet. Six months ago, a lab was uncovered, a secret lab that had once belonged to an Ancient called Janus who we knew had done lots of scientific stuff frowned on by the other Ancients. The Ancients evacuated from Pegasus back to Earth when under attack by the Wraith. They submerged Atlantis under the sea and made sure nothing of use was left behind for the Wraith if they ever got to find her, including how to make Control Chairs, ZPMS and drones. Janus, however, had left his lab intact… perhaps he intended to return later, alone… but he left it's tech security coded… to be unlocked by an Ancient gene only… I've only ever been able to access some minor stuff, small fry and not much of it either… McKay, the scientists, all think, however, that someone with a higher CC could unlock a hell of a lot more… probably even get us our ZPMs, Control Chairs and drones… and… then… you came through the time rift…"

_Perhaps there is a reason for your existen__ce. _

"Destiny, huh?"

"If you want to believe in that sort of thing… you see, now, why your McKay got it so very wrong…"

"Like I said, perhaps… he had… looked into it… decided…" and was left breathless…

"It's ok… don't talk… I still say he didn't… coz if he had, there's no way he would let this pass by."

But why was that the second time now the other Sheppard had excused his McKay that way? The other Sheppard and his McKay had met only the once… hell, not hardly enough time to cement such defensive loyalty… though he'd been insistent that McKay had trusted him… believed in him… no friends… no family… yeah, you might react that way… Or the other Sheppard was simply acting out of some kind of modesty?… Or had gotten so cynical, so bitter with life… himself… he really didn't think he was worth any consideration… something had really kicked him hard in the teeth at some point… and then kicked him again when he was down… or…

"What is it… what is it that McKay found out about you so he couldn't consider you for his Team? That he couldn't really trust you after all… because you have Wraith DNA?"

"I… I don't… understand," starting to cough again.

"He didn't know you have Wraith DNA either? Or do you think he just plain omitted to tell you?"

"Wraith…?" And he was coughing big time, attempting to sit up, holding his chest, and Sheppard was standing, reaching for the water fast to hand to him. Hell, this had been news to him too. And Sheppard was going into this heavy handed. Third degree stuff. If he didn't let up soon, he _really_ was going to kill this guy. So much for friendly and understanding.

The other Sheppard got on top it, refusing the water and lay back exhausted. Sheppard was no expert. But his breathing was getting a whole lot worse.

"I'm calling Dr. Bianca."

But the other Sheppard surprisingly grabbed his arm and stopped him. "No… you've got… more… explaining…"

Sheppard relented and sat down. "I'm sorry-"

"-And… you've got to… quit saying… sorry… if you weren't here… it'd be… me and four walls…"

_Die alone. Die alone in the desert._

"Wraith DNA… does that… mean…"

"No, you won't turn into a Wraith… no… when we first figured this out, there was that fear… that anyone holding that gene might naturally sympathise with Wraith and couldn't be trusted… That's why I thought that perhaps McKay… Anyway, in our reality, the Wraith experimented with humans, gave them Wraith DNA… we don't know why exactly. But it's left the descendants of their victims with certain Wraith abilities. They can link into the Wraith collective psyche… find out what they're thinking… find out where they are… and operate their technology… it's probably an experiment that backfired on them… We've never come across any Ancient doing the same thing… though they did experiment with DNA, but in your reality they must have done, because its there, you have it, loud and clear… I have a member of my team with the same Wraith DNA… I don't pretend to understand it… but she can do things with her mind… I've asked her to come and visit later…"

"To… check me out?"

"I guess… but hey, she's a whole lot friendlier than me… and… the job's still yours whether she likes you or not. The ability to detect Wraith on top of everything else… We even think… we think you may have been able to locate the Wraith in the trailer with the link without even knowing it. That's what makes me believe that McKay knew about your Wraith DNA. He showed you the other Wraith to see what your reaction would be."

_I will show you your destiny, John Sheppard._

"McKay said… they get in your mind…"

"They can make you see things… but to get in your mind, they have to touch you. Here." And he touched his temple. "He was in a guarded cell, right? Couldn't have touched you? Though, it's possible, Wraith in your reality are different…"

The other Sheppard nodded. "He knew my name…"

And they fell silent. And then the other Sheppard continued.

"But McKay… think you're wrong… they were… desperate… last hope… running out of options… to rely on me…"

"Hey… stop running yourself down…"

"Not superhuman material… like you say… just not me…"

"What you did at the trailer site damn well was."

"Hero stuff?... got shot up… couldn't… even… do that right… And… your offer?... Military wouldn't want me…"

"As a cop, you're practically trained. You don't have to be military anyhow. Our McKay would take you on as a scientist…"

"No… you don't understand… the military wouldn't want me…"

Realisation. That nagging elusive something of earlier. That feeling that the other Sheppard knew how to fly. They were both John Sheppards. Could they have both had the same background? Both been pilots. Both… had those black marks on their records? And the other Sheppard had never had the chance to get over it?

He quickly turned off the recording device. He wasn't about to make that same mistake twice.

"What did you do?" he asked slowly.

The other Sheppard did what he always did when he chose not to reply. Closed his eyes and said nothing.

"Look, it can't be as bad…" and Sheppard wasn't so sure he wanted to talk about his Afghan experiences either. And certainly didn't know how to put this into words. "It can't be as bad as the time I broke the rules." Though it could be. He knew that. All that time when he'd felt sorry for himself… all that time when he'd told himself, it could have turned out a whole lot worse…

Still nothing.

"What did you do?... This is between me and you."

The other Sheppard struggled to open his eyes, looked towards the recorder and shut his eyes again. He still wasn't going to talk.

Sheppard sighed deeply. He hated raking this up. "Me first, huh? Afghan. Black Hawk. A friend and colleague got shot down and stranded behind empty lines. I went back for him against orders. Lost the chopper. Found him but he died anyway. A hearing, not demoted though but flying hours cut back, down graded to sorta taxi driver in and out of McMurdo. I thought that was the end of my career. And then they found out about my ATA gene…"

"Sounds like…" And those eyes opened again, "they're using you… same way you say… McKay used me…"

"I was given a second chance. I've never regretted taking it."

"Your military… would do that for me?... doubt that…"

"They're not going to find out are they?"

"It'd get figured out… sooner or later… and why do you want to know?"

"Curiosity? And if you've flying experience, it's another bonus point."

He closed his eyes again. "It was worse… much worse…"

"So…" and there could only be one possibility… "You got people killed?"

"Yeah…" a long pause… "Twelve… Four civilians… Eight military. Three injured. Including me…"

"And you got busted…"

"All kept hushed up… Father was a senator… Get-out-of-jail-free card… Friends in high places… Was why I could become a cop…"

"And you became a cop to spite him, not because of the uniform…"

"How… how did you know?"

"Let me guess… and he wanted you to go into the family firm? And you refused? And that was all the thanks that he got for saving your hide? And he'd never wanted you to join the air force in the first place?"

So alike?

And all they ever wanted to do was fly…

-oAo-


	4. Chapter 4

Guess Things Happen That Way - Part Four

He grabbed himself one of those microwave meals in the rest room and thankfully no one bothered him. Though company would have been good… it's never fun to eat alone… but not with those nurses… and not a meal in the dining room… his mood was too serious for that… right now… he was looking forward to seeing Teyla.

He flipped through channels using the remote to a small TV set in a corner. But it all seemed like so many words. Earth affairs... Everyday earth affairs had lost all interest and relevance to him. Why would he want to know which celebrity was seeing who that week? Or about comparing prices of home insurance... banks collapsing... saving the Borneo rain forests for the orang-utan, or even the schedule for the latest re-run of Star Trek. Perhaps they had already ceased to be important long before Atlantis: tours of duty with the air force had that sort of isolating effect.

And yet so much had been done to save this planet a week ago. On his part too...

The media had been full of eyewitness reports of fireballs, comets, UFOs, following the destruction of the hive ship and Atlantis' entry into the earth's atmosphere. Global meteorological departments had been fed the official line: everything had been down to sun spot flares mixed in with a high incidence of meteoroid activity.

A terrorist attack had been suggested for the sudden destruction of Area 51 only to be dismissed, though regretful for the sad loss of life, as a gas tank fracture in the air conditioning system.

But all this in one day? Coincidence? the pundits had questioned. The approach of doomsday. 2012. Conspiracy theories. They had all been there. A week later this had all fizzled out with only some minor references. Though Sheppard figured that websites were still going crazy with all this speculation. And the guys who favoured the UFO notion, well, they weren't actually far wrong… as always…

Dr. Bianca had shooed him out of the other Sheppard's room, wanting to carry out more checks and to allow the other Sheppard to sleep for the afternoon before Teyla's visit. So, once he'd finished eating there was nothing for it but to call his driver.

"So where d'yer want to go?" asked the Corporal over his shoulder as Sheppard climbed into the back of the car.

And yeah, he'd be expected to say central Vegas. Seven miles away. That would kill time. And no doubt the Corporal knew the best places to take his visitors… if you asked the right question. But Sheppard was no stranger to the area. He'd done training at Nellis. And some of the guys he'd been with… well, they'd already shown him the 'best places.'

He leaned forward and handed the Corporal the details of the location of where the Wraith trailer had been discovered.

"You want to go out in the desert?" Surprise in both raised eyebrows.

Yeah. Peace. Solitude. A place to think. And he shrugged. And sat back, pulling out his shades from a jacket pocket and putting them on. And that should have had the effect of saying, don't talk to me. And the Corporal said nothing more. As a driver, he probably got used to judging the mood of those he drove around.

And heck, what was wrong with him? He wasn't usually so morose, so unsociable. Something of the other Sheppard had rubbed off on him then?

But no way could he face Vegas. A city, bustling, with people going about their daily lives. He'd had a taste of that from the local TV channel. Nothing felt right… nothing felt right about being here on Earth again. There was always a surreal quality to events in Pegasus, on Atlantis… like you were living a dream… and returning to Earth… so very different… an alternative reality all of its own…

And the last time he'd been here was for his father's funeral… an outsider then… no part to play in that… He couldn't even mourn. Though there was a sadness at what could have been. He'd fixed things with his brother David but there was never a reason to return… Earth had nothing for him now…

The word was alienated… he was an alien on his own damn planet…

He'd have to suck it up and get over it. Chances were that they were now stuck here permanently. And he had no say in the matter. No control. Both circumstances and the SGC dictated what would happen next. Pegasus was just an episode in his life and it was gone. Perhaps the other Sheppard could turn that all around. So he was pushing him? Using him for his own ends? Hell, what did that make him? But there was no getting away from it… at the present, all hope of getting back to Pegasus, not just for his sake, for Atlantis sake, for the sake of the whole expedition, for the sake of the people of Pegasus rested with this other Sheppard.

But this other Sheppard, hadn't actually said he'd be prepared to join a team. Perhaps Teyla could persuade him. Physically he was going to have to do a lot to pull round. Even… mentally too… the guy sure had issues. God knows what a SGC psychiatrist would make of him… it would have to be overlooked… all stops pulled on this one… but how does anyone cope with twelve deaths on their head?... it'd just got to screw you up somehow… and there was stuff on that recorder that would show that that's exactly what had happened…

"Your stop…" and they'd pulled up on the side of the back road out of Vegas.

The desert. Sparse scrub. Mountains close by.

He climbed out and the driver immediately switched on the car stereo and settled himself down to read a newspaper, not bothering to cover up his look that said Sheppard was plain crazy.

There was nothing here to see, after all. No wreckage now. Clear up jobs of this kind were always thorough.

He walked away from the road, even questioning his own wisdom at coming out here. He was still limping slightly and it was sweltering after the air conditioning of the car. He removed his jacket and swung it over a shoulder, hooking the collar with a finger. The sun bore down offering little shade. A heat haze shimmered silver, back on the road, wildly distorting the distant horizons. When he reached the pylons, the heat seemed intensified by the static and electricity humming through the lines.

He was little used to the hot dry air of Nevada, and much preferred the cooler moist air blowing from the sea when Atlantis was back in Pegasus. Or even the temperate forest environments of so many off world planets they'd visited. Sentimental already huh, John?

There was nothing to see. Nothing here except one lizard basking in the sun and a desert that stirred up too many memories.

A sudden breeze whipped up the sand into his face forcing him to squint and hold up an arm. A low eerie howl. Stopped as soon as it started… And he shivered despite the heat… It was like… someone walking over your grave…

The desert again. The SuperWraith… he'd survived that fight like he'd survived so many things in Pegasus… and all things considered, he'd come through the last five years relatively unscathed, Iratus Bugs and a Wraith called Todd aside… but seeing the other John Sheppard was somehow hammering it home that… one day… one day… luck was going to plain run out…

The desert again. Like a haunted place. Where the other Sheppard had nearly died...

The desert. Afghanistan. The loss of Holland.

And Sheppard too could have died in the desert.

He stooped and picked up a stone, throwing it hard into the air. Which worked wonders for the lizard's reflex actions but did little for what must have been his pent up frustration… or something…

Sheppard had taken the Hawk out of the compound, without permission, against orders because of enemy fire… Grand Theft Chopper. But, besides a few million dollars worth of government property, it'd only been himself that he risked… that was the only decision he'd had to make… the other Sheppard had obviously made that choice in mid-rescue mission, putting the lives of others in jeopardy… no… Sheppard couldn't have made that call… not for anyone… how ever much he liked to claim they never left anyone behind… and the IOA, SGC had a right to know what this other Sheppard was capable of… and Sheppard was doing a cover-up… just to keep that chance alive that they could get Atlantis back to Pegasus… no… he was giving the other Sheppard… his second chance… he saw himself in the other Sheppard… the guy deserved a second chance…

He headed back to the car. And smiled wryly as strains of the Cash song, 'Solitary Man' came over the open ground from the direction of the car. The stereo had been turned up. So his driver liked Cash too? And yeah, Cash in the desert seemed about right.

_I know __it's been done havin' one girl who loves you_

_Right or wrong, weak or strong._

But he lost the rest of the song, thinking about the other Sheppard again…

There was an image in his head of the other Sheppard saying he doesn't care. Doesn't care what people think… doesn't care about respect or self respect… doesn't care if the world goes to hell… doesn't care if his life is crap… doesn't care if life passes him by… he doesn't need any of it… he's fine… alone… And its words only. A pretence. A self-delusion. And the illusion shattered when he decided to go against the Wraith in the desert…

_I'll be what I am_

_A solitary man._

And if they are the same… how many self-delusions is Sheppard holding?

He's fine. Alone. A solitary man.

-oAo-

Dr. Bianca was in the corridor, slowly walking in the opposite direction, studying a patient's file. She looked up with no sign of a smile as he approached.

"Colonel… you're back… your Teyla Emmagan?... I've put her in the rest room to wait for you."

"Thanks." And he made off in the direction of the staff door.

He'd had the call half way back that Teyla was ten minutes away and he'd practically sprinted from where the car had dropped him off, ignoring signs to keep off the grass and ignoring the pain of his ankle. He told himself there was no real hurry and then contradicted himself straightway… this was Teyla's first time actually on Earth, on terra firma and he hadn't managed to be there on time.

"Colonel, another thing?"

"Yeah?" And he stood still at the entrance.

"Only five minutes for your next visit?" He left the door and came back over to her.

"Why?" Of course, he knew the answer, and disappointment just knotted somewhere in his chest. There were some things you just couldn't control…

"I'm sorry… he's not doing as well as we hoped… the radiation… affects the immune system you know… since this morning… there's been a down turn… his fever… look, have longer but it's only to sit with him… you know… someone who cares…"

One word. "Sure," briefly rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers and a thumb. Quick to turn, because… well… even… Colonels have to hide…

Teyla was making a pretty good stab at looking vaguely interested in a magazine that must have been left lying around. She stood instantly when he entered the room. She'd swapped her regular Athosian tops for a simple sleeveless tee. Her usual diplomatic self. Her usual smile to greet him. That immediately faded.

"John?"

He must have looked grim. "I'm sorry." And tried to soften up a little. "Your first trip to Earth…" and it's all going wrong... He strode past her, feeling her puzzled look on his back and, making straight for the water cooler, he filled a paper cup and downed it in one go. And another.

"You should have been shown the sights… you know, New York, Paris, London… not here…"

"Here is fine. And I am certain that someone will show me these… 'sights' at a later date."

Holding his empty cup, he suddenly remembered his manners. "You eaten? Need something to drink? The culinary delights here are..."

"Passable?"

"Yeah. Or I could take you to the dining hall and really wine and dine you." Candles. The room had been filled with candles. A weird dream. And he'd trained himself never to remember dreams. But this one had always stuck. Sharing a bottle of wine. After dinner. Candlelight in her hair… the brightness in her eyes… the glow on her skin… This is just perfect, he had said. And it was.

"It is ok, I have already eaten." His sarcasm was often lost on her.

"Your trip ok?" He flung open the cupboard above the sink where he knew the nurses kept a… passable stash of savoury snacks. "Torren John? Kanaan?" And he ripped one open, taking that and a third cup of water to the uncomfortable couch, sitting down. But why the hell was he thinking of food at a time like this? One chip and it stuck hard in his throat and he could eat no more, pushing the packet away on the coffee table in disgust. And water? He needed something stronger.

"They are… fine. Yes. Fine." And that was after a week's visit? Just fine? He surmised that the way he was behaving was acting as something of a conversation stopper.

Teyla sat also. Uncertain. Looking towards the door, "Should we not be-"

"-There's no hurry," he said quickly, sipping the water, not meeting her eye. No hurry. Since when did he need time to psych himself up? They didn't even need to go in at all. Not now. Except to sit there. Stay with him. Show him someone cared… He could chicken out and just leave it to Teyla.

"He's… he's not doing so well…" Still not looking up, toying with the rim of his cup.

"I'm sorry… when Sam spoke to me, she said his progress was looking very hopeful…" She glanced towards the door again. "But… I have sensed it… I thought perhaps this was due to a weaker Wraith DNA strain… but I understand now…"

"The mind thing works then?" He glanced at her, interested again. And then mentally kicked himself. What was the point in going on with this?

"Yes… but as I have said… there is very little to go on…"

_A necklace. A crucifix sits in the darkness of a drawer. There is a woman here who is close._

"What is he like, this John?"

"What? Would he be good for the Programme? Yes, he would. Whether he wants to join, I still don't know."

"You have found out nothing about him? His family? His story?"

"He was in the air force. Got kicked out. Over a similar incident like my Afghan one. Though that's not on the record. That's between him and me. He became a cop. He said he has no family."

"Has no? Or _had _no? Everyone has family," said Teyla, with a sad shake of her head. No doubt missing Torren and Kanaan already.

"He was like me, not on especially good talking terms with his father."

"Then perhaps," she encouraged with a quizzical eyebrow, "he was, like you, married at one time?" Hell, he hadn't thought to ask… Nancy… a divorce... and there even might have been kids… he had so single-mindedly thought only about getting the other Sheppard on the Programme… 'I have no family,' the other Sheppard had said. He'd simply accepted it at face value. And _he_ was supposed to be the one who was going to sit with him and show he cared?

"I don't know," he admitted lamely. There was probably still so much he didn't know about the other John Sheppard. He stood and walked over to the bin, dropping in his cup and packet. "I guess it's time to go." He faced her, hesitant and reluctant to leave. "You know… you don't have to come in. You've checked out the mind link. That's enough. And… some time in the near future, I promise you, the sights, huh?"

"I am quite happy to accompany you, John. As I do believe that you are not finding this an easy task."

No. She'd be right about that one.

"Before we go, however, there is something that I wish to tell you. Perhaps…" and she glanced back towards the door… "it might seem inappropriate but it is something I feel can hold back no longer. And I have already informed Ronon and Rodney so it would not seem right that you are also not aware…"

It's her resignation. He was sure of it. She misses TJ and Kanaan. It's only to be expected. She wants to be with them. And he rubbed the back of his head, wondering how the hell he was going to word a response.

She noticeably drew a deep breath before speaking. "Kanaan has… let me go."

He started, surprised. "Sorry?" And there was that tightness in his chest again.

"Kanaan has let me go."

"What? You mean… like in 'divorced'? Athosians get divorced? I thought it was a life thing with you people…"

"We are sensible to the fact that if… feelings..." and she began again, taking another deep breath. This was tough for her. Though there were no tears. "If things are... difficult between a man and a woman, and if the two are in agreement, and it has been discussed at great length with no solution reached, then there is little to be gained by prolonging the relationship."

What was he supposed to say now? Should he ask why? Was it any of his business? And why wouldn't the tightness in his chest go away? And he felt awkward with this. Standing in front of her. So he walked over to the window as she spoke and leaned on the sill. She couldn't see how he was thinking that way.

"Well, that's sort of… hey, that's… you must be…"

And then, unasked, she offered her reason why.

"Matters have not been the same since Michael. Since Kanaan was a hybrid. We have tried… but it is not the same."

"That was a difficult time for you both. As now… now must be difficult too… for you both… If you want time out to sort this… it's yours… you know that… You don't think you should return to your people permanently?… It can't be easy to live apart… but hey, I'm not going to tell you what you should do…"

To tell her to go. When inside he was praying for her to stay… When inside he was glad its over with Kanaan… And he was already hating himself for feeling that way…

His dream again… The candles. The wine. The way she looked across the table.

She shook her head and stood. It was time to go. "Kanaan and I have discussed this enough now. And Kanaan understands that that would not solve the… problem. It has all been a mistake on our part… I believed it would be a good match for my people… both having the Wraith sense… he is a good leader… would make a good father… we were childhood friends… it demanded no sacrifice on my part… but there comes a point when duty is not enough…"

-oAo-

_Candles._

_Candlelight fills the room. _

_Candlelight in her hair… brightness in her eyes… the soft glow on her face, her shoulders…_

_They are together at last._

_She holds up her glass. Candlelight reflected to infinity there. Offers a toast._

"_I haven't had the chance to thank you."_

"_Thank me? For what?" he questions, raising his own glass, barely able to take his eyes from hers for a second. _

"_For rescuing me."_

_And he's puzzled. "Rescuing you?" And he looks down slowly. Uncomprehending. Pain in his side. Pain in his chest. Places the glass on the table before he drops it. His hand goes to the blood on his white shirt. Bullet wounds. The Wraith. Horrified, he looks across the table to her. _

_But h__er chair is empty._

_He reaches across the space of the table, hoping to grasp her hand though she is no longer there._

"_But I didn't save you… I never got to save you…"_

_And the candles flutter out all around him. He's alone and left in darkness…_

A voice that coaxes him… wakes him from his dream… tells him he must face reality once more…

"John? John? Colonel Sheppard is here to see you again… can you manage?... he has someone else with him…"

The fan whirrs. He feels its coolness on his burning skin and he shivers. It hurts to breathe. The pain across his chest will never go away and his throat is so raw.

The military guy needs him to open his eyes… and no… he can't manage it… his whole body aches… heavy…

"John?" The voice asks again.

He prises open his eyes. Sheppard he knows by the blur of darkness. The white is the Doc. He closes his eyes again. He's done it… happy with that?

"Just want sleep…" he tries.

But they'd been someone else. He wants to sleep. But he wants to see also.

'_I never gave up hope because I knew. I knew you would come for me, John.'_

"But I didn't… I couldn't… I couldn't get to you."

He hears the Doc say that he must be delirious.

Who is the other person? Who is the other person who sits with him in the candlelight?

_And his hand reaches across the table, trying to grasp her hand before she disappears…_

"Who's there? Who's there?" And he forces open his eyes. Forces his eyes to focus. She wears brown and the candlelight catches in her auburn hair.

_And her hand slips from his… she waves… she smiles… and he spends a whole lifetime trying to forget…_

"It can't… " He's pushing on his hands. He's sitting upright. He's fighting every damn shaking, hurting, aching part of him.

"It can't! She's dead!"

And the doctor is reaching for him. Words that shuss and calm. Hands that try and calm and make him lay back. Hands that he shoves away.

"She's dead! She died! I couldn't save her!" He hates this. He hates the alarm in the brown woman's eyes.

And Sheppard's hands are on his shoulders. "Come on, buddy. Come on. Calm down."

"She died! I couldn't save her! I couldn't save her! I couldn't save her!" And he's crying into Sheppard's arms. Collapsing in Sheppard's arms. And the coughing starts. And Sheppard holds him still. The coughing is racking his body, killing him more. But Sheppard won't let him go. His cry is nearly lost. His cry is nearly lost as blackness takes him.

Only Sheppard hears it. Teyla. Teyla. Teyla.

-oAo-

He looked out of the rest room windows, leaning hard on the low sill. The blinds half-drawn against the sun.

"You weren't to know…" Teyla good at making sympathetic speeches. But he hoped he wasn't going to get one. He freaking didn't deserve one. He sighed and walked back towards his couch, flinging himself down, propping one elbow on the back, hiding his eyes behind his raised hand, with one hell of a headache threatening.

"If I'd _asked…_" He leaned forward, studying the floor, not daring to look in Teyla's direction. He wasn't comfortable… wasn't comfortable with what Teyla had witnessed in the other room. He knew it was only Teyla and he'd pretty much been through everything with her… but… damn… he'd held the guy in his arms. He might as well have gotten up on some stage in front of a packed audience, he was feeling so awkward with this. "I just assumed… that the other Teyla was in the other McKay's team… he hadn't met them… he didn't talk of a Ronon, or a Teyla… So what happened to his Teyla to make him… go to pieces like that?" He remembered those long awful weeks when Teyla was in the hands of Michael. What would have happened if they'd never had found her? Or if they had found her… too late… like the holographic McKay had described when Sheppard had gone forward in time. Or… what if _he _had been the one to find her?

"I saw…" Teyla had begun to speak and he looked up surprised. She swallowed hard, and damn, he realised she was trembling. Was he always going to get this so badly wrong? He'd been so caught up with how he had felt about all of this… and Teyla… he wanted to move closer…

"There was a darkened room, John… A woman screaming… He was not present… a mind link… he was aware… he was hearing the woman screaming as if he were there… John… the woman screaming was me… the other Teyla… John… John… I do not wish to hear such screaming ever again…" And her hands went up to cover her face.

"Hey, Teyla…" and he quickly stood to come to her side… and then looked up as Dr. Bianca stormed in.

"Colonel! And you say you didn't come here to kill him?! Well, full marks for trying!"

He was on the defensive. "You think we wanted that to happen? We didn't know…"

"Hell!" and she ran a hand through her hair, exasperated. "And the crazy thing is that he still wants to see you! I can't believe that! But if you pull anything like this again-"

"-I didn't know."

She headed for the coffee machine, quietening down, as she reached for a cup. "If I had my way he'd be sedated. But he's insistent. Do you think all you Sheppards are stubborn like that?"

He didn't answer. "I'll go now?" Alone. Not wise to take Teyla again.

"Yeah," she sighed, "five minutes, right?"

He nodded. And Teyla took his hand into the two of hers before he could move. The effect was electric. And he covered it. As always.

She looked up to him. "John… it doesn't… we know that you care… it is acceptable to show that." And he nodded, clenching his jaw tight. And left.

-oAo-

Sheppard says, you shouldn't talk.

And he replies, then… how…can… I… tell you?

Only. It's tough. To force out the words. That are slurred and too quiet. To force in breaths. Words and breaths that grate painfully over his clogged lungs. That stab down to the wound at his side. He might as well have died in the desert. But he won't give in. Not yet.

Sheppard says her name. Teyla. He can't see Sheppard. A haze. But he senses that Sheppard wishes he doesn't have to mention that name. But its ok, he can deal with this now.

Last time.

Sheppard says words that have no meaning. That his brain can't unravel. Remember the mind link… of those with Wraith DNA? She was able to see.

He doesn't understand.

So he starts. Her name was Teyla d'Emmagan. He has these words clear in his head. They have gone through his mind a million times before. That makes it… that must make it… the most rehearsed hard luck story ever… These words are clear in his head. But he's not sure… not ever sure if Sheppard gets to hear it all… He's not sure if he misses parts out… he's not sure if he falls asleep and forgets he's talking… and dreams his words… but it's his story and he will tell it…

French Canadian. A medical officer.

_And her hair is auburn and falls over perfect shoulders. And her eyes that are bright and smiling always, catch the light from the candles. _

A base outside an Afghan town. She liased with Red Cross, UN, local people. To get their trust. Provide health care. First came across her taking out supplies.

_'I don't do dates on a first meeting, Captain. Especially when we've met for, what? Only five minutes. I know nothing about you.' 'Well, I like ferris wheels and anything that goes over two hundred miles per hour. That sort of information makes us friends and you can call me John. _

Four months together.

_Their favourite place. A back room in a small Kabul hotel._ '_See, I told you, you'd warm to me once you'd got to know me.' And they're laughing as he takes her by the waist and pulls her down onto the bed. _

The Taliban began a major offensive. No warning. Intelligence had nothing. Guys left out on the ground, in the open. Soon finding themselves behind enemy lines. He made sure he was assigned her area to evacuate personnel. Chaos. Med unit and patients were supposed to be first out. Several trips. Enemy fire closer and heavier. But no sign of her.

_He's aching__. Where is she? Where the hell is she? _

Someone says. She'd gone out to a village that morning. Kids inoculations. An assistant and one armed unit. Had radioed. To say they were headed back. But he checks with a recon guy he knows. The area's already thick with Taliban. The village is in their hands. Making for the town. And the town's getting hit by mortar shells.

_He's praying and he has never prayed._

It's getting hairy. Alters course to avoid fire. A radio guy has picked up an SOS.

_He's praying. He's praying._

Teyla. Both vehicles are out, she'd said. The army guys took a direct hit, she'd said. She and her MA are on foot. But his orders come through. Back down. Back down. He has eight civilians. Four military. His own crew of three. He can't take on anymore. But he has to find her. He is so close. He has to go back and find her.

_'Captain? Are you crazy? You're going to get us all killed!' 'Sit down, Sergeant, I'm going back!' 'We don't stand a chance! Our orders are to get the hell out of here!' shouts the Sergeant. 'And I'm ordering you to sit down! We're going back!'_

He's wearing his shades. The sergeant can't see his eyes. The sergeant won't know whether its sweat or tears. His co-pilot doesn't say a word. But he's judging.

He tries the personnel locator. Her radio's not responding. _Where is she?_

He likes to gamble. But he's gambling his fifteen lives against the two down on the road. The gunners are busy. And the radar jammer is useless: they're in full view anyway. He swoops low. Banks high. He knows he's good at this. But shells puff black smoke all around. Percussion makes the Hawk judder. A near miss scrapes, banging the outside.

_'Shit,__Captain! Get us out of here!_ _For Christ's sake, get us out of here!'_

Two vehicles burning ahead on the road. He takes the Hawk down low. Blades fan smoke and flames. A couple of bodies. Not her uniform.

_Jeez, where is she? Where is she?_

They've come along the road and not spotted anything. Where is she? Back the way they've just come. Full throttle. Weaving. His passengers getting a rough ride. The town in sight again. And a body just off the road. He's sure it's male. He swings the Hawk round to land. Closer look-

-And the explosion whips the controls out of his hands.

Hits him back hard in his seat. His hearing's gone. He sees his co's mouth moving. A silent scream. The explosion rips off the rear section. Drops the chopper dead out of the sky. Careering backwards. The second explosion as the Hawk hits the ground. The floor buckles, smashing into his legs.

He can't hear his own fucking scream.

Heat behind him. At his feet. The chopper rolls to its side. Glass shatters all over him as he seems to fall through space…

He can't hear his own fucking scream.

He's lost her. He's lost her. He's lost his whole damned life. And you only get the one chance…

I… was… right… he says to Sheppard. I…was… right… to… go… back… for… her.

Sheppard says nothing. Then Sheppard still doesn't agree? Thinks its twelve lives lost for nothing? More than twelve lives lost. Lost his own life.

Like the flip of a coin. It could have gone either way.

They never find her… three days later… units retake the area… they never find her…

A year… to fix his legs… court martial… to become a cop…

A year of nightmares… when he hears her screaming… he knows its her… so he trains himself to forget his dreams… sometimes to forget to sleep… poker all night…

A colleague… Aiden… lost too… trauma… POW… taken when Teyla went missing… released as an exchange… Aiden needs to talk… his first night captive… they beat the crap out of him… and he has nightmares too… he hears a woman screaming too… screaming from another cell… lasts only that one night… then... silence…

You see… I was… right… right to… go back…

Yeah, you were right, says Sheppard. I would have done the same.

But… I… was… too… late…

He's exhausted now. Two… three… harsh breaths between every word. Lets sleep take him, listening to the fan whirring… Its all he ever needed… for someone to say he was right… for someone to say that they understood… that they cared… and he knows that John Sheppard means all three… its more important even, than proving himself against the Wraith…

-oAo-

Colonel?

Here.

You think… there's… you know… an afterlife?

No… don't talk like that… you're going to pull through…

Fine with this… Think I'll get to see her again?…_ The candlelight in her hair… _Think I'll have that sorta luck?…

Sorry… didn't hear…

Don't… get… second chances…

You don't give up, John. You hear? You don't give up!

Things happen… not the way… we plan it…

…and he closes his eyes again…

She… likes you…

Who?

Tey… la.

How do…?

Just know…

That's never going to happen…

If you… let it…

…and he sleeps… wakes…

In the drawer…

…and he hears the drawer sliding open… a necklace… a crucifix…

You… want to hold it?

Yeah.

…and again he drifts…

It's… all… I have… hers… it should have… been… a …gift… John?

Still here.

Give it to Teyla… when you're ready… don't be alone…

…and slowly, the necklace slips from his hand…

-oAo-


	5. Chapter 5

Guess Things Happen That Way - Part Five

"You're not to move from that spot, do ye hear? If I have to chain you to the bed, so help me God, I will do just that! But don't make me - ye understand, Colonel?!"

Sheppard pulled a face. Yeah, he'd always broken Beckett's rules. So he couldn't begin with the promises. Not now. Though Beckett had insisted he wore scrubs so that would tend to limit his movements. He knew Beckett knew that. Beckett was being downright sly then.

Beckett studied him hard, waiting for that promise, however.

"That's a nod once for yes?" he prompted with little optimism.

Sheppard shrugged. Beckett was just being sly… and paranoiac… Though, inwardly, he was praying for time out to go to the bathroom alone.

Beckett sighed. It was as much as he was going to get out of the Colonel. He removed the cotton pad from the inside of Sheppard's elbow where he'd been applying pressure, and satisfied that the pin prick in the vein would no longer bleed, he brusquely applied a small dressing strip.

Sheppard instantly picked up his game he'd been forced to abandon when Beckett had come with his needle.

"Hey, I haven't finished with you yet!" And he leaned over Sheppard's game, blocking Sheppard's view of the screen, reaching for the monitor pads on Sheppard's chest just hidden below his collar, a tube of gel ready in his hand. "I'm not happy with these connections…"

Sly… paranoiac… and irritating…

"Doc, are you going to do this _all_ day?"

"What? Oh, you mean show concern for your well-being? Yes. Yes, I am as a matter of fact." And he straightened, turning to pick up his tray of medical paraphernalia to take away with him. "I hate this, you know." Suddenly serious. Quiet. Sarcasm all gone. "We've got no idea of possible side effects… and using a perfectly healthy individual as a guinea pig… well…" He was shaking his head in sheer disbelief that he could possibly be undertaking this…

"You're not Michael."

"No."

"It's a good cause."

"Aye, it is."

"And when I last checked, no one was forcing me…"

"No…" And Beckett seemed happier with all of that, and patted Sheppard on his shoulder in his usual bright manner which made Sheppard wince it was so… irritating… "If ye need anything, just shout. And you're going to have to get used to being fussed over by this mother hen, laddie. Its regular twenty minute assessments for the first three hours. Then hourly after that. Be good." And Beckett left.

Sheppard tried the game again. But who was he trying to kid? The screen might as well be filled with Wraith script. He threw it down on the bedclothes in disgust and closed his eyes. His lowest score ever. And he knew that an IQ evaluation was one of Beckett's planned tests. Beckett might as well go find himself an actual guinea pig…

But he needed the game. Without it he was just going to do too much thinking… Should have brought a book, comic, magazine… though he doubted he'd be able concentrate on that either. He needed a mission. To stop thinking... But they were still stuck on Earth. And talk now was of disbanding the Pegasus expedition entirely. Maintaining only a standby security team to protect or operate the Chair if need be. It'd drive him nuts. And… he'd lose his Team. The end of an era. It had to happen.

If Beckett could pull this off, however…

* * *

Beckett's breathless explanation. "What I propose is this... basically, a booster inoculation to augment and strengthen an already existing ATA gene, thereby, hopefully, significantly increasing the Calorie Count of that individual." He anxiously looks at the faces of all those assembled around the table of the Conference Room. Uncertain how they would react.

"And then we can crack open Janus' lab?" says Rodney all too eagerly. He's had three weeks of working flat out on the power problem and even for him, enough's enough. And now he's had to accept Sam's assistance… and that's got to hurt.

"Counting chickens before they hatch, Rodney. We'll not know that until the time comes."

"But I seem to remember, this has already been tried, with no significant increments in the CC," says Sam.

"Yes, that's true, using my or Colonel Sheppard's DNA on those with a lower CC."

"So, you're going to use the alternative John Sheppard's DNA?" she guesses.

"Yes."

"On Colonel Sheppard?" asks Woolsey, coming up to speed.

"And you're ok with this?" Sam asks Sheppard directly.

And Sheppard nods. Because deep down. He isn't. Though it'd been him who'd first approached Beckett with the suggestion in the first place. But… this would mean a constant association with the other Sheppard for the rest of his days. A constant reminder of something else he'd rather forget…

"But is, what you're proposing… ethical?" is Woolsey's second question.

"I guess we'll let SGC decide that," says Sam, though not unkindly. And no, now they're on Earth, it isn't Woolsey's call anymore. This has got to be referred on.

"But the benefits are tremendous," says Rodney enthusiastically. "If this works, just think, if we can unlock Janus' lab and get access to those protected files, can discover how to produce ZPMs, not just for Atlantis, but for Pegasus, the Milky Way… Earth…" It's Rodney's opinion but it's shared by all of them.

"That's one big 'if', and still, the question, is it ethical?" Woolsey isn't about to shirk responsibility. To his own personal integrity.

"You mean because we can't _ask_ the alternative Sheppard?" cuts in an annoyed McKay. "Look, we already have the DNA in storage… it's not as if Carson is going to take it from a dead… body… person..."

Rodney is tactless but he usually knows when he's tactless. And he glances at Sheppard. And Sheppard looks away. They've all been careful round Sheppard these days…

And Sheppard pushes it all down and knows he can't keep quiet forever. "How I see it is like this… the guy was prepared to sacrifice his life to save his world. I'm sure he would have surrendered a few pieces of DNA to save ours."

They all fall silent.

And Sam breaks it with another question to Beckett.

"And what about side effects?" Sheppard knows she's looking his way concerned. He fingers the edge of the table. If he'd needed someone to worry, he'd let Teyla come to the meeting. But he didn't ask her. She doesn't even know what he's decided to do.

"I'm not anticipating any," replies Beckett. "The two DNA, you see, coming from what is essentially the same person should be completely compatible. The lack of success in those past test trials was probably due to the very use of such widely differentiating base DNA. To err on the side of caution, however, I do intend to carry out a series of six weekly inoculations, gradually increasing the dose over time."

"So how do you expect this to turn out? You're using big numbers here. John might end up with an accumulative CC of 300 plus?" asks Sam.

Rodney can't hold in his gasp and Sam kicks him under the table that everyone notices.

"There is that possibility, yes."

"And the effect of that on John? We have no way of knowing, have we?"

"Honestly? No. But, every step of the way is going to be closely monitored and reviewed. Any hint of a threat to the Colonel's health, both physically and mentally, and we're stopping."

"I'm still not happy," says Sam. "John, you should have more time to consider this."

"It'll take me a couple of days to develop the inoculation," explains Beckett.

"Then... I have a couple of days," says Sheppard flippantly, standing, finishing the meeting. His mind is already made up…

* * *

"What!? You're not asleep?!" And Sheppard shot his eyes open. Beckett was back already. "It just won't do to develop symptoms of drowsiness just twenty minutes in, ye know?!"

"Just thinking."

"Oh, so ye can still think? I'll tick one of my little boxes here, shall I? This is going to be such a doddle," he said smiling broadly to himself, tapping an entry into a datapad. And then started mother henning over the monitoring equipment, whistling low to himself.

"So ye feeling alright? No nausea? Dizziness? Wonky vision? Tinnitus? Pins and needles? Cramps? Shakes? Sniffles?" And he was ticking off those boxes with each shake of Sheppard's head.

"We have to go through this every twenty minutes?"

"Yes. Sorry. And ye haven't used the bathroom, so we can't answer those…"

And Sheppard winced. "About the bathroom…"

"Ye can go when you have to… It's important to know you've still got the use of your arms and legs, after all… just tell a nurse and she'll disconnect you." So that wasn't so bad. "And, Colonel?" As he was leaving. "We do need samples. Of everything…"

_Ok_.

So, in the future, he perhaps wasn't going to be quite so hasty to volunteer for medical research… and… he really wasn't in the mood for Beckett's brand of humour… Morale boosting, huh?... Yeah, morale. That'd taken a fall… And Beckett's optimism? Poles apart from the concerns of earlier… Though he knew that Beckett was as capable of a cover up as much as he was. It goes with the territory. Docs can't show patients just how worried they are about their condition. Officers can't show… hell, nothing.

_It is acceptable to show that you care, John. _

And where had it gotten him? The other John Sheppard had still died. Out of his control. Whether you show it or not. Things happen that way. And it was getting just such a long list now. Holland. Sumner. Aiden. Elizabeth. All those in Pegasus who'd died at the hands of the newly woken Wraith. All those who'd died at the hands of Michael. All those marines who'd died protecting Pegasus and Atlantis. He was tired of caring… But he'd still do it... he couldn't change…

* * *

He holds the crucifix tight in his hand. Listening to each of those hitching breaths, wondering if one will be the last.

_Give it to, Teyla. Don't be alone._

_Give it to Teyla. When you are ready._

He knows the other Sheppard must have realised how much he cares for Teyla. When the other Sheppard has cared so much for his own Teyla. When the other Sheppard has risked lives for his own Teyla. They are not so very different.

But it was never meant to be. Sheppard knew Teyla would choose someone from her own people one day. She was their leader. It was only natural. So he trained himself to forget his dreams. His hopes. And allowed respect to replace physical love. Death seems to follow him around anyhow. Five years has been a long miracle. And Teyla doesn't deserve to be a widow.

"Colonel," says Dr Bianca, gently. "You have to leave now. We have to get him back on the ventilator."

He numbly nods, leaves, pushing the crucifix into a pocket and enters the rest room feeling drained. Teyla stands. Sympathy again. She would hug him but hesitates at his look... and he couldn't stand the thought of her touch… not now. He says nothing. If only she knew… He attempts to make a coffee. His hands are shaking. Hell, _his_ hands are shaking…

She comes across to him. "Let me do this for you," she says.

He wanders over to the couch and she brings him the coffee that he gratefully sips.

"They're putting him on a ventilator." He says nothing more than that. He can't trust his voice to say more than that. He can't tell her the story of the other Teyla.

"This is a very sad time for you." And she says nothing more than that. Simply allows the silence that he needs.

He finishes his coffee.

"Once. He searched my mind." She says then.

"Why?" he asks. Fearful that she might discover…

"I do not know. It was weak. He might not even have realised he was carrying out a search. Perhaps to see if I was like his Teyla?"

"Did you…?"

"Search him in return? No. Not at a time like this." She always knows the right thing to say or do. She does not reprimand him. She never judges him. It is a simple statement of fact. But he bites his lip and punishes himself.

"No."

"I thought perhaps… you would explain things to me?" And she reads his silence. "But if you do not wish to, I understand." What he's thinking right now, won't make it into words. Will never make it into words.

He has a necklace. That was intended as a token of affection in another world. Teyla d'Emmagan. John Sheppard. Who never had that chance. It has travelled through a time rift. He has a necklace. _Give it to Teyla. When you are ready. Don't be alone. _And Teyla is free now. He's an Air Force Colonel. He's just spent five years in the Pegasus. He has commendations now, too many to remember. But he cannot make this happen…

Dr. Bianca enters. "You can sit with him," she says softly. "We never know how much they are aware…"

Teyla comes with him. She holds the other John Sheppard's hand. Without hesitation. He is moved by that. Though it is a typical Teyla thing to do. He wonders what she is thinking. They say little. Listen only to the rhythm of the ventilator. He is uncomfortable with watching the other Sheppard struggle for life. His thoughts are of their conversations, Atlantis, solutions, five years, how the one incident of sitting in the Chair changed the whole course of his life, the flip of a coin…

Teyla says suddenly, "he is at peace now."

And the monitor flatlines…

And he watches helplessly as the crash team work over the bed... and he leaves abruptly when Dr. Bianca gives the time of death.

And this is his future… there can be no other outcome… only a matter of time… Teyla will never know… and he'll always be alone…

* * *

"Colonel? John? You ok?" Beckett was back again.

"Yeah. Sure." He'd started and fidgeted himself into a more upright position ready for Beckett's examination. His hands had been behind his head and getting numb anyhow.

"You've been staring at the ceiling for twenty minutes and ye think that's ok?" And the Doctor's ticking his boxes as he checks monitors. "Ye know, I have to put down states of mind and mood swings. How do you think I'm going to write this one up?" And then more sympathetic. "This is a good opportunity to get some thinking in, eh?" But Sheppard didn't need time to think. He'd done just too much of that this last week or so. Going over and over the same things in his head.

"Have ye not got something to read? The nurses will bring you something. Where are your friends when ye need them?"

"Ronon said he'd bring me lunch. Rodney's too busy. Teyla…"

"Teyla?... My God, John, ye still haven't told her? Right. State of mind." And he rolled up a sleeve and made a pretence of writing up the entry. "Incipient lunacy… Well, she'll find out today, anyway." And he sighed, shaking his head. "Aye, and I imagine the wee lass will forgive you… ye have your reasons, I suppose-"

"-Let's just get this over with, shall we?" interrupted Sheppard icily.

Beckett looked at him surprised. And that had been a lot more hostile than Beckett deserved. But Sheppard really didn't want to talk about it. He reached for the water jug on his side tray, pouring himself a glass and drinking as Beckett ran through his list. He laid back and closed his eyes again. He hated this. He hated being here. Everything just reminded him of that room and the other Sheppard. He'd failed again. He hadn't been able to save the other Sheppard. Thought he could talk the other guy around. And a nagging guilt that perhaps he had pushed him too hard… And then… and then, that reminder of… his own vulnerability…

"Are you sure you're ok?"

"Yeah. Fine."

* * *

He knots the blue tie, facing the mirror set over the chest of drawers in his quarters. His dress jacket is hanging, waiting, on the back of a chair. He hates wearing the uniform. Funerals. He wears it only for funerals now.

The necklace sits in the darkness of one of those drawers.

His door buzzer sounds. He knows its Teyla. It's the time they've agreed. He makes the thought and the door slides open. He grabs his jacket and slips it on. Buttoning up and turning.

He stands still. Stunned.

She is in Earth clothes. A simple black dress with a neat jacket.

The feeling is tearing at his insides. He could nearly cry. She is so goddamned beautiful.

And he sees it in her eyes too. The approval.

But it is seconds only. This is a funeral after all.

The necklace sits in the darkness of one of drawers.

He's never going to find the right moment to give it to her. She may as well have it now and wear it to the funeral.

"Teyla?"

"Yes, John?"

"The other Sheppard? He left you a necklace." It is a half-truth. He pulls open the drawer and passes it to her.

"I'm sorry. I should have got it boxed." He wonders if this is a mistake. The two people connected with the necklace are now dead. But he's relieved also. He no longer has to find the right moment. It's cheating he knows. But he no longer has to think about it.

"For me? Why would he do that? He carried it with him through the time rift? This is… a crucifix, is it not? It is one of your… religious symbols?"

He nods to the last question. It's been years since he's been near a Church. He hopes she doesn't need to know more. He never got to ask the other Sheppard whether he was or had been religious. It doesn't come up when talk is of time shifts and Wraith. At least… that's what he tells himself. He assumes that if the other Sheppard wasn't averse to stealing money, then he wasn't. He assumes that the other Teyla might have had faith. If she was anything like this Teyla…

Teyla looks down at the crucifix held in her hand. She is uneasy with this. "Your Christ was a martyr? This was a terrible way to die and yet… there are those of your people who chose to commemorate this on personal ornaments… as a symbol of love…"

"You don't have to wear it…" he says. He would nearly prefer it now if she didn't. "It's silver. Some people wear them because they're made of silver." It's shallow, he knows. It's shallow of him to point this out. He feels like he's deliberately trying to sabotage the necklace. It's a trinket. It has no meaning. It has no meaning because he has given it to her this way.

"But you wish me to wear it?" Why should she ask like that? It's hers… not his anymore. He looks away. Puts his hands in his pockets. He's not comfortable with this conversation.

She considers for a moment. "It is appropriate, I believe, to wear it now. To his funeral. In his honour."

He hadn't looked at it that way.

He nods slightly. Yes. It would be the right thing to do. And she places the crucifix around her neck, turning, asking him to clasp it for her.

He hesitates before moving forward.

To touch… this is a cycle of five years… in the cave on Athosia… he first placed her father's charm around her neck. So much promise and he let her go… So much has happened since then… So much has happened but this has not changed… to touch…

* * *

"Dr. Beckett says you might be ready for coffee and cookies," explained the nurse as she placed the tray on the side table. She carried Beckett's datapad and a stethoscope. So Beckett had sent her in his place this time.

"He's helping Dr. Keller at the present."

Which might be true or not. If Beckett was avoiding him, Sheppard probably deserved it. And the coffee was probably vindictive. To make him go to the bathroom…

Sheppard really had got to lighten up. He even made the effort for a smile or two as the nurse ticked those boxes. Which seemed to relieve the nurse no end. She'd been warned then. Be careful round the grouch in the far corner… But what he was undertaking was about to be life changing. Might even be life _shattering_. And Beckett couldn't understand why he found it so difficult to tell Teyla? When there were so many other things he hadn't told her either… But why be so protective of Teyla?… she was tough… she didn't need wrapping up in cotton wool… never had… these were facts… he was being inoculated with a booster ATA gene… if successful, they might discover how to produce ZPMs… these were facts… there was an outside chance of side effects… these were facts… in the past, she would have been told… why protect her… now?...

* * *

The wind strengthens here as evening approaches. Blows off the desert, hot and dry. Teases and flutters the padre's white robes. Carries the padre's sermon in fragments into the air. Fidgets at the pages of his open book. Fine sand rasps and eddies round the piles of earth thrown out for the grave. A flag snaps and flaps and dies, snaps and flaps and dies. Its ropes clinking against its pole. Intrusive and out of tune. Nearby shrubs whisper and sigh.

It's a simple short ceremony. A plain casket. A single white wreath of lilies. He stands to attention. Eyes forward. Impassive. Hat tucked under his arm. The breeze ruffles his hair.

There is no eulogy. No one really knew the man.

The padre simply expresses regret that John Sheppard was cut down in his prime with potential still ahead. Holds up the dedication of a detective who was prepared to sacrifice his life so that others might live…

The padre talks in general terms.

The padre talks of the struggle and torment that is life.

The padre talks of how sorrowful death can seem to those left behind… as we realise our own mortality…

Sheppard stands impassive. Eyes fixed on the casket. This is himself in the casket. This is his own flesh. This is how it ends. This is how it will end. Or dying as an exploding star… No more…

On the Daedalus. Things happened so fast. Didn't have to think. Here. He has been made to see. See every last dying breath… He has been made to feel… made to feel frailty… made to feel what it is like to lose everything that you care for… made to feel what it is like to try and pick up the pieces… made to feel what it is like to be human and to fail in a world where there were no second chances… hell, the man had been a hero just trying to live…

There are few mourners. Woolsey. Someone from the IOA. Bianca. A nurse. A Colonel Heaton from the base. No, not mourners. Simply there out of respect. Courtesy.

How would this have been if the other Sheppard had died in the desert on his Earth? No friends. No family.

A hero. He deserved more than this in both worlds.

How would this had been if the other Sheppard had not turned the car around, had not turned life around?

No friends. No family.

How would this have been if the other Sheppard had accepted a place on the Programme?

It feels like… it feels like for all the infinite realities there are still infinite possibilities. And it all rests on the flip of a coin…

Destiny. Fate.

He doesn't believe in it… he is certain that he doesn't believe in it…

When is it destiny? When is it down to a decision, right or wrong?

But sitting in a Chair brings Sheppard to Atlantis… no… further back… trying to save Holland… takes him to McMurdo… takes him to the Chair… even the flipping of a coin…

For the other Sheppard, that one incident that changed his life... trying to save Teyla… takes him all the way through the time rift… and now, once Beckett has investigated the booster ATA gene… Is this destiny?… Was it always meant to be that the other Sheppard would turn his car around?… Not just to save his world but this one also?… The other Sheppard's death was never ever going to be in vain... there was always a reason for his existence. Sheppard will carry the other Sheppard into the future. They will share the same destiny… For however long that might be...

He thanks Bianca and the nurse for coming. Makes small talk with Colonel Heaton before the man makes his excuses to leave. Woolsey is still chatting with his IOA friend. Teyla suggests they walk.

The wind plays with her hair and she struggles to push away the strands straying across her face.

"Your visits to Earth… first a hospital… then a cemetery… you're not doing so well," he says.

She smiles wryly for this is true. "I am expecting you to keep to your promise."

"The sights, huh?"

"Yes. The sights."

And there would be nothing he would like more, than to show her the whole wide world.

And… could he do that? Could he just leave Atlantis, take Teyla with him, and push the last five years behind them?

But he's not ready…

He glances at her. He sees the crucifix at her neck. He feels guilty. He feels a fraud. The necklace was not given to Teyla. It was given to him to give to her when he was ready… And he's not ready… Last wishes of a dying man… The other Sheppard thought he understood Sheppard… and he did… but Sheppard is not ready…

He glances back to the graveside.

This is his end. It is only a matter of time. This is his destiny. And he can't offer that to Teyla…

"John?" She has walked ahead of him. Leaving him standing.

At least, he can tell her the truth… some of it…

"Teyla…" She returns to him to listen. Her face questioning...

"The person he went back for… his Holland… was the other Teyla," he says.

"Yes, John… I have felt that."

He is surprised. "You know?"

She nods. She knew and didn't tell him? But she is like that… she waits for him… until he is ready… in his own good time…

She is calm, but she shivers slightly as her hand reaches for the crucifix. "This was hers?" She would feel that. She would feel the aura around the necklace.

"Should have been a gift… he never had the chance " He can't look at her. Turns, putting his hands in his pockets. The light is fading fast now. The world is cerise and golden, shadowed with dark purple.

"Teyla? I would have done the same," he says. And he would have been broken by the same loss, the same guilt. It was never the court martial that condemned the other Sheppard. It was the other Sheppard himself.

"I know that. As was the case with Michael-"

"-No. This isn't like Michael," he says, watching the sun sink low.

This isn't at all like Michael. With Michael, he hadn't worked alone. Combined effort, combined will to save her. For the sake of the baby. For everyone's sakes… For the memory of those who hadn't been saved.

"Those of us trying to rescue you… we knew exactly what we were letting ourselves into. We were fully prepared to take those risks. No one was there who didn't want to be. When the other Sheppard went after his Teyla, not only was he disobeying orders, but he had evacuees on board his chopper. He took a gamble with innocent lives. They had no part in what he was attempting to do. The chopper took a hit. Twelve people died…."

He turns to face her. The sun catches golden on her auburn hair. And a knot holds tight in his chest.

"Teyla… I would have made the same choice… if I'd been there… I would have done the same."

A confession. And love becomes selfish as well as selfless.

But he's still not ready.

"John…" she begins. "I thought that five years ago… we decided then…"

"I thought that_ I _decided then… and listen, he made me realise that nothing has changed… five years and nothing has changed… I still feel the same way… and yeah, I'm kinda glad that Kanaan has let you go… but I can't do this… I can't do this… the other Sheppard thought I should… we should… but I need to be able to do my job without… having to check over my shoulder… to make sure it's ok with you… that it won't affect you… that none of this…" and he waves a hand back towards the graveside, "will affect you."

"Then," she says, "you need to take back the necklace until you are ready." She is not angry with him. Practical as always. But not without emotion. And she goes to release the clasp. And her eyes are moist.

"You know that too?" he asks. She always waits. Patiently waits for him to make the first move. She always reads him right. She always knows he will come round finally. She always knows him…

"Yes. His mind was clear at the end. Without torment. With your forgiveness you gave him peace and strength."

"I… forgave him?"

"You were prepared to understand him. You do not realise what a good man you are, John." He numbly accepts the necklace into the palm of his hand where the chain falls like so many grains of sand. And she closes his hand with her own, leaving her hand holding his. "You know that I will wait for as long as it takes."

* * *

"So you've come to see if I've managed to recreate Frankenstein's monster?" And Beckett cocked a head to one side studying Sheppard. "Yes. I think I've got that bang on!"

Teyla. Smiling at Beckett.

And if looks could kill, then Beckett should be dead again. "You told her," Sheppard muttered. He realised that's where Beckett had been at the last check up.

"Of course, I told her, yer silly sod! And how long do ye think you could keep this a secret? I'll leave it to you then. Ye won't be long, will yer, dearie, because I'm damn sure he needs the bathroom by now…" and Sheppard's look got blacker. "Whoops… did I just break patient confidentiality?..." and the Doctor walked off whistling again…

Teyla pulled over a stool from the neighbouring bed and sat on his left, her smirk hardly fading.

"I guess I'm in trouble?" he asked, picking up his game with his right hand, toying with it, not looking at her.

"No. But it is as Dr. Beckett says... how long did you think you could keep this a secret? However… I find I am not offended. Not offended that you have been avoiding me these last few days as I have needed this time to think. I also have been guilty - of avoiding you." And she sighed, "although, friends should not have secrets, do you not think? You even asked Rodney and Ronon not to tell me. But I believe you may have acted out of concern for me? So… how can I be hurt by this?"

"I didn't want you to worry… no…"

"Or you did not wish to be dissuaded from this thing?"

He shrugged. There was that too.

"But if you had asked for my opinion, I would have said it is a very brave thing that you are doing."

He still said nothing. Still turning his game over and over. Once glancing sideways at her hands resting on her lap.

"But this is in contradiction to everything that you said at the funeral."

He looked up sharply then. "It is?"

"Yes, John. For here you are. A course of action where you are considering how I might be affected."

"But I still did it… I can't be worrying about… leaving you behind… this is what we decided five years ago."

"You think this will lead to your death? Dr. Beckett thinks not…"

"There is always that chance. There is always a chance that I might change… "

"What if I were to tell you, John, that it is a chance that I am prepared to take?" And she reached forward and took his hand into hers.

"No. No," she said quickly because she could see that he was going to interrupt. She lifted one hand and her fingers were on his lips to quiet him. Her touch… and he knew he leaned into those fingers… and that they lingered there longer than they needed to. There was that knot in his chest again and he couldn't trust himself with words.

She continued to speak. Her hand back on his again. Her eyes on his face. But he turned away again. He wouldn't, couldn't look at her...

"You have told me what you think of our… relationship. And now you must listen to what I have to say. It is only fair and just… I am prepared to take the risk. As you should be. You face risks all the time and yet you will not take a chance on this. The priest at the funeral said that death makes us realise our own mortality. And I know that the death of the other John Sheppard affected you very deeply… you were so similar. When we were together in that room, I know I could never drive away the thought that I hoped never to see you like that, so helpless and so in pain. But we all die, John. And we can never know our end.

You say that you would cease to function if you were compelled to always consider how I might be affected if you should be injured or die. No, this would not be functioning but... it is not living either... to deny your true emotions. We should take our opportunities when they are offered to us, for we do not know how little time that we have. We… you and I have allowed too much time to pass us by. We have both come to realise that our feelings for one another have been re-kindled… Kanaan understood that… that is why he let me go… perhaps they never changed… we simply decided to ignore them as our true feelings… And…" she paused to consider this, "I believe I have much to thank the other John for… and this is more of a legacy to me than the necklace… in that he has perhaps opened your eyes again to this possibility…"

He listened to her. With no thought of cutting in now. She understood him… the situation. She had always understood him.

"So now…" she resumed, "I find am ready… I am ready, John, to take our second chance, wherever it may lead us… " and she squeezed his hand. "But… as I have told you before… I am prepared to wait… but always hope that I will not have to."

"Teyla…" The knot in his chest. That choked at his words.

And he leaned over instead and placed his free hand over hers. Daring to glance up to her eyes. And then back down to her hands. She was taking control, taking the initiative, being her usual persuasive, reassuring self… and he was ok with that. It was one of the things he admired about her after all. And there was little in what she'd said that he could argue with. Though he still couldn't shake the feeling… his flesh and blood… his end… at the graveside… lilies on a plain casket… the desert… always the desert… but perhaps… he'd just got to learn to live with it. Same as with everything else.

"Tomorrow," she continued, "when Dr. Beckett releases you, I shall prepare us a meal. In my quarters. It need not mean anything… it is entirely up to you… But I feel we would be beginning again… a new life… unconcerned with what is past or what dangers the future may hold. And things need not be so very different. There are many husbands and wives who work alongside one another…"

His surprise found his voice. His eyes found her face. "Hey, Teyla... Are you proposing?"

"Yes… Yes, I believe I am!" and she laughed. And he allowed himself the first real smile of several days.

"You have always been… special to me, John… if you are ever more than that, it will be… a bonus, as you say," and there was now a hint of mischief there, in her eyes and in her voice.

And Beckett blundered in, right on time. "I hope ye talked some sense into the stubborn fool…" and then reddened, as he spotted their hands together and the way they pulled apart.

And Sheppard… well, he guessed he reddened too because no way was he ever going to persuade anyone this was Teyla doing her regular friendly hospital thing.

"Sorry, I didn't mean… you know… oh gosh…" And the Doctor abruptly looked down at his datapad, clearly hoping the ground would open and swallow him up.

"It's ok, Dr. Beckett, I was just leaving…" said Teyla grinning at the embarrassment of both men. She offered her head forward to share an Athosian kiss with John… and … God… he so wanted that and the thought to last forever...

And her hand slipped away from his… she smiled… waved lightly…

"Until tomorrow…"

"Yeah, tomorrow…"

-oAo-

The whine through the air. He doesn't see. He knows the Jumper. Lorne's Jumper. Even in the haze that passing for thought he knows its height, speed, direction. Circles low and fast. Landing. Whips up dust and sand that grits and stings his face. The clunk of retracting engine pods. That thumps through the ground to where he lays.

He doesn't see. And breathe comes hard and grating. And pain nails him to the desert floor.

Stench… heat of burning, flaming debris. Fires that rise and flutter hard in the desert evening wind.

The desert again.

Last time… in the desert… with Holland…

Last time… in the desert… when he fought the SuperWraith.

No… last time… and… he sees the sun sparking off the silver trailer and feels the heat from the car engine.

But this is not his future. It's the other Sheppard's… they are not the same… it is not his destiny to die in the desert… it damn well isn't going to happen… he's going to fight this…

And Ronon says, trouble. An alien ship. Alongside the Jumper. They split up. He has the south approach. Open ground. He won't let the others touch it.

You're invaluable, but not invincible, Woolsey had said. You shouldn't risk a mission. But they need raw materials.

And he is as a god and can do no wrong. Atlantis is his. She speaks to him. The secrets of the Ancients are secrets no more. Janus' lab has opened up to him. Atlantis is his project. He wants her back in Pegasus, protecting its people...

Open ground.

Damned open ground like the last time.

And he hesitates. Thinking of Teyla. Thinking of their unborn child.

Open ground and he hesitates.

And the bullets rip open his back. He's sent hurtling to the dirt. Twisting in agony. Crying into the sand at his face. Rolls, his hands clutching at the pain, arching, clawing at the ground with his feet.

Footfalls approach in the sand. Forces himself to go still. They think he's dead. They take his weapons. But they haven't seen the grenade clenched in his fist.

Gunfire from the Cruiser. McKay. Ronon. Don't stand a chance. Not against ammo that goes through vests.

The sun's suddenly low in the distant mountains. The world instantly golden with purple shadow.

It's so… beautiful… so beautiful, he could die here… he could let go of pain and die here…

It's the shadow that he uses. He staggers to his feet, half crawling, holding his side. The grenade bloody and slippery in his hand. His warning to the others is hissed out low over his earpiece. He pulls the pin. Launches it into the craft. Retreats and… strength leaves him. Stumbles down. Humbled into the dirt and sand again. A searing wave of heat from the explosion. He flinches though it's nothing to the cutting and tearing at his back.

He will live. He wills himself to live. He won't die just to prove he was right. He'd said this is how it would be. One error. Thinking of Teyla. But he never means this to happen.

And he never means to die a hero.

And the Wraith grates out his mocking laugh… And Todd says, you won't be happy, John Sheppard, until you die a hero.

Not true. Not true.

Hands lift him. The sound of the Jumper again. Fast by the stars. He doesn't see. Hands push at him. Helping. He's shaking. Convulsing. Oxygen at his face. He won't die. He won't die. He won't be like the other Sheppard. He won't give in. He's living his second chance. He's carrying so much into the future.

He won't die. Not now. He can't die.

Rodney. Get… me… back… clutching tight at his friend's arm. Back to Teyla. Back to Atlantis.

Blood in his mouth. Teyla, he struggles out. Teyla.

He doesn't see.

Ronon, don't let me die…

We won't.

Ronon, I don't want to die alone…

You won't. We're here.

He won't die alone without her.

He won't die and leave her alone…

And her voice seems to reach across time and space… her hand touches his… she holds his hand tight as if she never means to let him go… She promised to wait…

And he sees his dream of Teyla. The only dream he has ever allowed. He is living his dream with Teyla.

_Candles._

_Candlelight fills the room. _

_Candlelight catches at__ her hair… brightness in her eyes… the soft glow on her face, her shoulders… her neck where the crucifix lays._

_This is perfect, he says._

_I have always cherished these moments when it is just me and you, she murmurs._

_Me too, he agrees softly._

_She holds up her glass. Candlelight reflected to infinity there. Offers a toast._

_Together always…_

…and he has a lifetime to remember… his second chance… and he will never be alone...

The End

* * *


End file.
